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BIFF McCARTY 

THE EAGLE SCOUT 





EDWIN PULLER 

I 

President, Scoutmasters’ Association of Saint Louis 



THE ABINGDON PRESS 

NEW YORK CINCINNATI 



Copyright, 1915, by 
EDWIN PULLER 



APR -6 1915 

^ ^ A? 

©cuasHiiOS 


THIS VOLUME IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDI- 
CATED TO MY BOY SCOUTS, WHO HAVE 
FURNISHED THE INSPIRATION FOR THIS 
STORY, IN RECOGNITION OF THE MANY 
HAPPY HOURS WE HAVE SPENT TOGETHER. 


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CONTENTS 


CHAPTER page 

I. Biff McCarty Appears 9 

II. Biff Finds a Job and a Home 24 

HI. A New Scout 32 

IV. The Burglar 42 

V. A New Patrol 50 

VI. The Fire Patrol in Action 66 

VII. The “Tigers” 82 

VIII. Big Bill at Work Again 91 

IX. An Accident 106 

X. The Competitive Hike 120 

XI. In the Hands of the Enemy 133 

XII. The Mascot 148 

XIII. Prisoners in a Cave 164 

XIV. The Scout Master’s Story 180 

XV. A Night OF Excitement 203 

XVI. The Football Game 215 

XVII. Biff Is Under A Cloud 233 

XVIII. A Mystery Is Solved 242 

XIX. An Honor Badge Is Won and Lost 252 

XX. Biff Lands in a Cemetery 258 

XXI. An Effort Misunderstood 267 

XXII. Fuzzy Is ON Trial 274 

XXIII. Biff and Fuzzy Become Friends 278 

XXIV. Biff Becomes an Eagle Scout 290 


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ILLUSTRATIONS 


Biff McCarty Frontispiece 

Biff as a Member of the Alley Gang. F acing page 52 

Bringing Buddy into Camp Facing page 113 

“l^ow Write What He Tells Ye” Facing page 136^'" 







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CHAPTER I 
Biff McCarty Appears 

^‘Halt!’’ 

The sharp command of Officer Hagerty 
rang out on the still night air. A boy 
darted into the shelter of a nearby alley pur- 
sued by the policeman. Again the command, 
“Halt!’’ was given to the sprinting figure, 
and when it was again disregarded by the 
fugitive, who was attempting escape by scal- 
ing a high fence, the officer drew his re- 
volver and fired point-blank at the boy. The 
bullet went through his trouser leg and 
buried itself in the fence. The boy, quiver- 
ing with excitement, released his hold and 
fell to the ground, and was immediately 
clutched in the strong grasp of the officer, 
who had just arrived, panting from the 
chase. 

“So, ye tried to make yer get-a-way, did 
ye ? — ye young crook 1” shouted the officer, 
pulling the boy to his feet. 


lo BIFF McCARTY 

''I ain’t done nothin’/' protested the boy. 

‘'Yes, ye have,” answered Hagerty. “Ye 
held up Skippy Reagan and robbed him. 
Come along to the station.” 

“Yes,” admitted the boy as he was led 
away. “I took my own money from him.” 

“Tell it to the judge,” laughed the officer, 
derisively. 

Arriving at the police station, the boy was 
locked in a cell for the night, and the next 
morning was taken to court for trial. 

Lawyer Hudson stopped a moment in the 
courthouse corridor to speak to a friend, 
when the latter remarked: “There is an 
interesting case on trial in the Juvenile 
Court. A boy is charged with highway 
robbery, and while the evidence against him 
appears strong, I believe there is something 
back of it all which has not been brought 
out.” 

“I’ll take a look in,” replied Mr. Hudson. 

Entering the courtroom, he found a four- 
teen-year-old boy, William, alias “Biff,” 
McCarty, on trial charged with robbery 
and assault. The evidence of the witnesses 
for the prosecution showed that the boy, 


BIFF McCARTY APPEARS ii 

at the head of his gang, had waylaid James 
Reagan — -a man of twenty-three years — in 
an alley a few nights previous and after 
beating him over the head with a club had 
robbed him of eight dollars. The boy was 
awed and frightened by the strange pro- 
ceedings and the solemnity of the court. 
He sat looking stolidly ahead of him, appar- 
ently little interested in the trial. He ap- 
peared to have all the indifference of a 
young and hardened criminal. Mr. Hudson 
walked inside the bar, and taking a seat 
beside McCarty laid his hand on the arm 
of the boy and whispered, ‘'What’s the 
trouble, my lad?” 

The boy replied, indifferently, “O, 
nothin’.” 

“Did you rob this man?” asked Mr. Hud- 
son. 

“Yes, I done it,” admitted McCarty. 
“I’m guilty all right, but I’d do it ag’in.” 

“Why would you do it again?” persisted 
the lawyer. ^ 

McCarty squirmed uneasily in his seat 
and then looked the attorney squarely in the 
eye as if searching for some hidden, hostile 


12 BIFF McCARTY 

motive which could prompt a stranger to 
interest himself in his affairs. He found 
in the open, frank countenance of the lawyer 
a look of sincerity and friendship which 
allayed his suspicions. 

^'Come on, my boy,” urged Mr. Hudson, 
^'I’m your friend. I will trust you, if you 
will trust me. Tell me all about it and per- 
haps I can help you.” 

‘'You won’t squeal on me, if I tells you?” 
asked McCarty, earnestly. 

“No,” said the lawyer, “I won’t squeal on 
you.” 

“Well then! I’ll tell you how it hap- 
pened,” said the boy; and while the police 
officer was giving his testimony covering 
the arrest and the confession of guilt made 
to him by the prisoner, the boy told his side 
of the story to his new-found friend. 

“Ye see, it’s like this,” began the boy. 
“My name’s Biff McCarty. My father got 
killed at the quarry when I was eight years 
old. My mother married ag’in in a few 
months an’ moved to New York an’ left me 
with my uncle. Big Bill Shaughnessy, who’s 
the barkeep in Brady’s saloon. I work in 


BIFF McCARTY APPEARS 13 

Layman’s box factory on J Street, an’ I gets 
four dollars a week. I gets paid eight 
dollars every other Monday night for two 
weeks’ work. Last Monday after I got 
my wages I was walkin’ home, crossin’ the 
big lot back of the brewery, an’ I took the 
pay envelope outa my pocket an’ was 
countin’ my money, when, all of a sudden, 
a guy slipped up behind me an’ snatched my 
money outa my hands an’ made a quick get-a- 
way to the freight yards. I piped him all 
right. He was Skippy Reagan, who done 
time in the works for sneak thievin’ six 
months ago. I chased after him as fast as I 
could, yellin’ ‘Stop thief!’ at the top of my 
voice, but I couldn’t ketch him, an’ he soon 
made his get-a-way in the dark. The last I 
seen of him he was crawlin’ under a freight 
car, an’ when I got under the car, he was 
gone. I know him all right. I hunted for him 
till midnight an’ then went home. My uncle 
— where I live — ^beat me ’cause I didn’t bring 
him home the money. The next night I 
gets me gang to help me an’ we laid for 
him till ’leven o’clock ’fore we caught him. 
Mike Case, one of me gang, seen him first. 


14 BIFF McCARTY 

He come runnin’ to where we was on watch 
an’ said, 'He’s goin’ up the alley — ^back of 
Schultz’s grocery.’ We runs up J Street 
to Clifton, then over into the alley where 
we meets him carryin’ a can of beer, an’ I 
says to him, 'Skippy Reagan, give me them 
eight dollars back.’ He says, 'I doan know 
nothin’ about your eight dollars.’ Then I 
biffed him over the head two or three times 
with a club an’ knocked him down. The 
gang jumped on him an’ held him while I 
went through his clothes. He had eight 
dollars an’ thirty-five cents on him. I took 
my eight dollars an’ put the thirty-five cents 
back in his clothes, an’ we let him up. Then 
he squealed to the cop an’ had me pinched; 
an’ now they’re goin’ to send me to the 
works.” 

He finished his recital with a look of fear 
overspreading his face at the thought of the 
imprisonment in store for him. His simple 
statement of facts, given in the vernacular 
of the gang, nevertheless bore all the ear- 
marks of truth. He did not shield himself 
in his recital, but told the facts exactly as 
they occurred. 


BIFF McCARTY APPEARS 15 

Mr. Hudson said, ''My boy, Idl do what 
I can for you.’’ 

He then proceeded to cross-examine 
Officer Hagerty, who admitted that Mc- 
Carty had not told him the circumstances 
of the affair, but had merely admitted his 
guilt when charged with the offense. The 
lawyer then drew from the witness the 
statement that "Skippy” Reagan was a 
police character, that he had served time for 
theft, and that he seldom, if ever, worked, 
and then only for a day at a time; that he 
never knew of Reagan having as much as 
eight dollars at one time in his life. On 
further cross-examination he stated that 
McCarty worked regularly, but was the 
leader of a tough gang of boys who spent 
their evenings hanging around the streets 
and alleys — that he had never known the 
boy to be guilty of stealing before this 
offense. He stated that McCarty was a 
fighter on the least provocation, and that 
this disposition caused the boys to give him 
his nickname of "Biff.” 

McCarty was now placed on the witness 
stand, and in a simple, straightforward 


i6 BIFF McCARTY 

manner told the story of the theft of his 
wages by Reagan and its recovery by him- 
self, assisted by his gang. Reagan quailed 
as Biff pointed his finger at him during his 
dramatic recital of events and declared, 
“That’s him. He’s the feller what stole my 
eight dollars, an’ Mr. Schultz what keeps 
the grocery on J Street seen him runnin’ 
away.” 

Grocer Schultz corroborated this state- 
ment. 

The judge watched the boy closely dur- 
ing his testimony and weighed his state- 
ments with care. He was convinced the 
boy had told the truth. Turning to the 
sheriff, the judge said, “Mr. Sheriff, place 
James Reagan under arrest on the charge 
of robbery.” 

Turning to Mr. Hudson, he continued, 
“This boy has done wrong, but he is not a 
criminal. He has never had his chance in 
life. He should have it. If I parole this 
boy in your custody, will you accept the 
charge and be responsible to the Court for 
him ?” 

Leaning over to Biff, Mr. Hudson said 


BIFF McCARTY APPEARS 17 

earnestly: 'Til do my part if you’ll do yours. 
Is it a bargain?” 

‘‘Yes,” answered Biff, stretching out his 
hand to the lawyer, and the new friends 
solemnly shook hands to bind the “bargain.” 

“I accept the responsibility, your honor,” 
announced the lawyer. 

Then followed the formal entry on the 
records of the court committing William, 
alias “Biff,” McCarty to the custody of 
Walter B. Hudson, Esquire. The next case 
was being called by the sheriff as Mr. Hud- 
son and Biff found their hats and left the 
courtroom. They walked silently from the 
stately courthouse, whose great dome, spa- 
cious corridors, and marble pillars seemed 
to proclaim the majesty of the law. 

The lawyer’s head was bowed in thought 
as they went down the street together. He 
was suddenly asked, ‘'Say, mister, what’s 
your name?” 

“O, I beg your pardon,” he answered, 
starting from his reverie. “My name is 
Hudson — Walter Hudson.” 

“You’re one of these here lawyer fellers, 
ain’t you?” queried the boy. 


BIFF McCARTY 


''Yes/’ answered Mr. Hudson, "I am a 
lawyer. Why, it’s one o’clock. How 
quickly the morning has passed! It’s time 
for lunch. Come in here, my boy,” said 
Mr. Hudson as they stopped opposite one 
of the great restaurants of the city, "and 
we will have lunch together.” 

Biff demurred, saying, "I don’t want 
nothin’ to eat.” 

"Come in and have a bite with me to keep 
me company. I don’t want to eat alone,” 
urged Mr. Hudson. 

The boy hesitated, influenced by the fear 
that he would be imposing on his friend, 
and besides, he thought, a meal must cost 
an awful lot in such a fine-looking res- 
taurant. 

"You’re my friend, aren’t you?” asked 
the lawyer. 

"Yes, ’course I am,” Biff hastened to 
answer. 

"Then I want you to treat me like a 
friend,” returned Mr. Hudson, with the 
light of fellowship shining in his eyes. 
This imputation of lack of friendship for 
his benefactor touched Biff’s heart and 


BIFF McCARTY APPEARS 19 

caused a lump to rise in his throat, as he 
said, '^Mr. Hudson, no guy can't never say 
I don’t stick to a pal.” 

The ethics of the gang in which McCarty 
had been reared required fidelity to one’s 
friends as the chief fundamental. They 
expressed it as ''stickin’ to your pals,’’ and 
Biff was loyal to the gang spirit. 

They entered the restaurant together and 
were shown a table located in a quiet 
corner and covered with snowwhite linen. 
Crystal glassware sparkled in the light shed 
from a hundred electric bulbs in the chan- 
deliers overhead, mellowed into softness by 
shades of delicate pink. The beautiful 
silver knives, forks, and spoons seemed too 
good to use in such a prosaic thing as eat- 
ing. The boy wondered what the huge nap- 
kins were for. He sat open-eyed as his 
benefactor ordered a simple luncheon of 
substantial food. While the meal was being 
served Mr. Hudson inquired, ‘'Are you 
going back to your old job, my boy?” 

“No, they’ve filled my place ’fore this,” 
answered the lad. “You see when I got my 
job there it was the next day after the boy 


BIFF McCARTY 


20 

who had been runnin' the trimmin’ machine 
had his right thumb cut off. TheyVe filled 
my place, I s^pose. I guess Fve gota look for 
a new job.’’ 

‘'How would you like to work for me?” 
inquired Mr. Hudson. 

“Doin’ what?” 

“As office boy — answering telephone calls, 
filing papers, running errands, and meeting 
people who call to see me on business, and 
making yourself generally useful.” 

“I’d like it,” quickly asserted Biff. 

“Well, I will engage you to begin at once, 
at a salary of five dollars a week,” said the 
lawyer. “My present office boy leaves me 
to-morrow to accept a clerkship which is a 
promotion for him.” 

“Maybe I can’t hold down the job,” said 
Biff, dubiously. 

Mr. Hudson replied, cordially, “I don’t 
think you will have any trouble after I show 
you what is to be done and how to do it.” 

The boy looked directly in the eyes of the 
lawyer and said, “If you gimme a trial. I’ll 
do my best to make good.” 

Luncheon over, they proceeded to Mr. 


BIFF McCARTY APPEARS 21 

Hudson’s law office, and Biff was there 
introduced to Mr. Clarke, the young lawyer 
assistant; to Miss Dodson, the stenog- 
rapher; and to Charles Flynn, the retiring 
office boy. 

The latter proceeded in a lordly manner 
to initiate him into his duties, explaining in 
detail what was expected of him and magni- 
fying the difficulties of the position. He 
said, discouragingly : 'Tt takes a lot of 
brains to do this work. I don’t know 
whether you can hold down the job or not. 
You’ve got to attend to business from nine 
till five.” 

Biff thought the job easy, when com- 
pared with his former one beginning at 
seven o’clock in the morning, and ending at 
six in the evening; and the wages — just 
think — five whole dollars every week! He 
wondered how Mr. Hudson could afford to 
pay so much money for so little work. His 
new fortune seemed too good to be true. 
He would pinch himself every now and then 
to prove that he was not dreaming, but 
really had a ''fine job.” Biff thought the 
office surroundings very rich and beautiful. 


22 BIFF McCARTY 

The highly polished mahogany desks ap- 
pealed to him as the acme of elegance. A 
subdued air of quiet and refinement per- 
vaded the office which prompted the boy to 
resolve that he would wear his ‘'Sunday 
best’’ clothes to-morrow and be sure that his 
hands were clean. 

Biff was now fourteen years and six 
months of age. He was of strong physique, 
with a muscular development which was 
envied by boys many years his senior. Of 
average height, and broad without being 
stocky, he possessed the strength and agility 
which gained him the reputation of being a 
boy athlete. A well-shaped head was con- 
nected by a thick neck to ample shoulders. 
Curly blonde hair, changing at times, when 
the light played on it, to a suggestion of 
brick red, crowned his head. His face was 
full, round, and cherubic in aspect, which 
belied his real nature. Clear blue eyes 
looked at you steadily from out their limpid 
depths. 

His hard life had not yet left its traces in 
his face, which still seemed at times to have 
a half look of stolidity which was counter- 


BIFF McCARTY APPEARS 23 

acted by the gleam of his clear, flashing 
eyes. His smile was engaging and genuine. 

As he left the office that evening for his 
home he confided to Miss Dodson, 'Tm a 
goin’ to hold down this job or bust a sus- 
pender.’’ 


CHAPTER II 

Biff Finds a Job and a Home 

The next morning Biff appeared at the 
law office at seven o’clock and hung around 
the corridors until nine, until the office 
force appeared, opened the door, and ad- 
mitted him. 

He was dressed in his best suit of clothes, 
which were clean, though cheap in texture 
and ill-fitting. His thick shoes, worn at the 
heels and roughed with wear, were newly 
polished. He had evidently scrubbed his 
face, ears, neck, and hands for hours pre- 
ceding his appearance. They shone and 
glistened as a result of the soap and polish- 
ing he had bestowed upon them. 

He took his seat at the desk assigned him 
in the anteroom with becoming modesty and 
trepidation and looked about the office, fear- 
ful that he would not do what was expected 
of him or that he would make some mistake. 

Presently the telephone bell rang and he 
24 


BIFF FINDS A HOME 25 

knocked over his chair in his eagerness to 
respond to the call. 

Miss Dodson presently sent him to the 
office of a client several blocks away to 
deliver some legal papers. He placed them 
in his inside breast pocket, buttoned his coat, 
and with a feeling of pride in his new re- 
sponsibility hurried away. 

Emerging from the door of the office 
building onto the sidewalk like a human 
catapult, he collided with a messenger boy 
with a force which sent the latter sprawling 
on his back. 

‘‘Get out of my way,’’ shouted Biff, look- 
ing back over his shoulder at the prostrate 
boy, as he hurried down the street. 

One day, after he had been in his new 
position a few weeks, Mr. Hudson called 
him into his private office and asked him 
about his home and his uncle with whom 
he was boarding. Biff told him that Big 
Bill Shaughnessy took all his earnings, and 
that he compelled him to work late at night 
scrubbing out his saloon, and doing other 
rough work which rightfully was a part of 
Bill’s duties. 


26 BIFF McCARTY 

Big Bill was a huge brute, with tremen- 
dous, muscular arms and chest, and re- 
nowned for his strength and violent temper. 
His heavy jaw gave his face a cruel and for- 
bidding look. He had formerly been a pugil- 
ist who had won many bloody battles in the 
prize ring. His love for liquor had induced 
him to abandon this pursuit and become a 
bartender, where he could more easily 
gratify his appetite. He frequently re- 
turned home in a state of intoxication and 
on such occasions Biff wisely hid away until 
his uncle relaxed into a drunken slumber. 
Like most bad men. Big Bill had one 
redeeming trait — a certain kind of rough 
affection for the boy — which he exhibited 
during his sober moments. 

What Biff called home was not a home — 
it was simply a place to eat and sleep. His 
uncle’s chief interest in him was his earn- 
ings at the box factory, where he had pre- 
viously worked, and his assistance around 
the saloon at night. Blows, curses, and 
abuse had been a frequent experience of the 
boy, who was kept in a constant state of 
terror during his relative’s periods of 


BIFF FINDS A HOME 27 

drunkenness. Only the night previous, 
when he was beating the boy for a trivial 
offense, Biff had defended himself by strik- 
ing Big Bill full in the face with an iron 
poker, cutting a wide gash in his forehead 
— the promise of a scar which he would 
carry to the grave. Then Biff escaped and 
spent the night in a stable, hoping his 
uncle’s anger would cool off. 

But Big Bill swore an oath that he would 
have his revenge on Biff. Heretofore his 
punishment of the boy had been inspired by 
his brutal nature. Now, however, he had a 
personal score to settle with him. 

Mr. Hudson decided that the boy should 
be removed from such surroundings as 
quickly as possible, and with that end in 
view, he approached one of his clients, Mr. 
Berger, a contractor, who occupied a pretty 
home not far from the city park. This good 
man and his wife were childless, and they 
willingly agreed to take the boy into their 
home to board. 

Mr. Hudson called one night to see Big 
Bill and found him tending bar at a low dive 
in a disreputable part of the city. Mr. 


28 BIFF McCARTY 

Hudson approached him by saying that Biff 
was in his employ, that he was anxious for 
him to attend night school, and that he had 
obtained an excellent boarding place for 
him within a block of the school. A black 
scowl spread over Big Bill’s face as he 
growled, ''You can’t take that boy ’way 
from me. He is payin’ me good board 
money and I need it. You are just tryin’ to 
git his money yourself.” 

"No,” replied Mr. Hudson, "he is not 
going to board with me.” 

"Well, I won’t stand fer it,” shouted Big 
Bill, "and what I say goes. See? You can’t 
come ’round here buttin’ into my business 
’cause I won’t stand fer it. That boy be- 
longs to me ever since my sister give him 
to me.” 

"I am sorry,” said Mr. Hudson, "that 
you do not realize that this change would 
be for the boy’s own good. He has a future 
in store for him and needs an education to 
succeed in the world. There is no night 
school near your home, and there is one 
near the place where he expects to board.” 

"That boy don’t need no eddication,” 


BIFF FINDS A HOME 29 

asserted Big Bill; ''that's all there is to it. 
Now git out of here." 

Mr. Hudson replied, "I am sorry we can- 
not agree on what is best for the boy. Good 
night, sir," and he left the saloon and re- 
turned to his home. 

The next day he filed a petition in the 
Juvenile Court, stating that the boy's edu- 
cation was unprovided for ; and that 
Shaughnessy was an unfit person to have 
the custody of the boy. 

The judge, after hearing the evidence, 
promptly appointed Mr. Hudson his guard- 
ian. 

That night, while his uncle was still at 
work. Biff returned to his squalid home, 
packed his few belongings, and stole away 
under cover of darkness. 

When Big Bill returned home drunk and 
learned from a neighbor of Biff's escape, he 
was in a towering rage. 

"I'll git him back," he shouted, "and beat 
him to death. I'll break every bone in that 
kid's body. He can't make his get-a-way 
on me. I'll find him an' learn him a lesson 
he'll never fergit." His face was livid with 


30 BIFF McCARTY 

anger, as he swung his great, brawny arms 
in illustration of the vengeance he would 
wreak on Biff. 

Staggering to the table, he drained a 
black whisky bottle and reeling out the door, 
shouted, ''I’m a goin’ to find him an’ kill 
him — kill him — kill him.” 

As he turned the corner of the street he 
bumped into Dinky Rivetts, one of Biff’s 
closest friends and assistant leader of the 
alley gang. 

"Hello, kid! where ye goin’?” grunted 
Big Bill, steadying himself against the wall. 

"I’m goin’ home.” 

"Have ye saw Biff lately?” queried the 
man, 

"Yes,” answered Dinky, unaware of the 
motive which prompted this inquiry. "I 
just left him a half hour ago.” 

"Where’s he livin’?” continued Big Bill 
in a soft, ingratiating tone. 

"He lives with Mr, Berger, at 696 Cot- 
tage Street,” answered Dinky, wholly un- 
conscious that he was playing into the 
ruffian’s hands. 

A wicked gleam of triumph flashed from 


BIFF FINDS A HOME 31 

Big Bill’s eyes. He fumbled in his pockets 
for a piece of paper, but could find none. 
His eye fell on a scrap of paper, not much 
larger than a postage stamp, in the gutter. 
He picked it up and unsteadily wrote the 
figures ‘'696” on one side, then turned it 
over and scrawled the word ‘‘Cotige” on 
the other side. 

''So he lives at 696 Cottage, does he? I 
love that boy Biff, I do,” he added with a 
hollow laugh as he staggered down the 
street. 

As Dinky resumed his journey home he 
soliloquized, "Big Bill acts mighty queer 
to-night. I can’t figger it out. I wonder 
what he’s up to.” 


CHAPTER III 
A New Scout 

Biff was making splendid progress as 
an office boy. He quickly learned his duties 
and took delight in his ability to do them 
well. His sunny disposition made him 
many friends, and his determination to suc- 
ceed inspired everyone in the law office to 
help him. He was glad he had escaped 
from Big Bill. He hoped he had passed out 
of his life forever. 

Mr. Hudson talked with Biff from time 
to time about his office work and his study 
in night school. He inquired of him how 
he occupied himself on Saturday afternoons 
— and on Sundays. Biff replied, 'T go 
down on J Street an’ see my old friends an’ 
set around an’ talk with them.” 

“Who are they?” inquired Mr. Hudson. 

“Well,” answered the boy, “there’s Mike 
Case, Slats Kerrigan, Dutch Deichmann, 
Dinky Rivetts, Swat Fogerty, and the rest 
of them fellers.” 


32 


A NEW SCOUT ^ 

The lawyer’s face fell with an expres- 
sion of discouragement when he realized 
that Biff was still associating with the gang. 

‘"Biff,” said Mr. Hudson, ‘‘you are a 
strong, active boy. I imagine you must be 
fond of athletics and outdoor life. How 
would you like to join my troop of Boy 
Scouts ?” 

“What’s them?” inquired Biff. 

“The Boy Scouts is an organization of 
boys who go out into the country on hikes 
and learn about the trees, birds, and stars. 
They learn how to give first aid to the 
injured, and how to camp, build fires in the 
open, and cook. They swim, save life, pre- 
serve property, tie knots, earn and save 
money, draw maps, and signal with flags. 
Wouldn’t you like to join us?” 

“I dunno,” replied the boy, “I don’t know 
any of them kids. I’m ’fraid they’re too 
high-toned for me.” 

“Not at all,” assured Mr. Hudson. “They 
are all good fellows, and I am sure you will 
get along well with them.” 

“If I joined them I wouldn’t have no 
time for my own gang,” argued the boy. 


34 BIFF McCARTY 

‘'Well, think it over,’’ concluded Mr. 
Hudson. “We have mighty fine times to- 
gether.” 

“Well, mebbe — I dunno,” ended the boy, 
doubtfully. 

It occurred to Mr. Hudson that he had 
not sounded the sentiment of the troop, of 
which he was Scout Master, as to the admis- 
sion of the boy. At the next meeting Mr. 
Hudson stated the matter frankly to the 
boys, telling them the story of how he had 
found Biff in the Juvenile Court charged 
with highway robbery, of the extenuating 
circumstances surrounding the offense, of 
the court’s paroling the boy in his custody, 
and he asked the boys if they would elect 
him to membership. 

A hush fell on the troop and the boys ex- 
changed thoughtful glances, but no one 
broke the silence. 

“Come, fellows,” urged the Scout Master, 
“let’s hear your opinion.” 

Bunny Brown arose, saluted, and said, 
“Mr. Scout Master, if you want him to join, 
I think it will be all right.” 

Fuzzy Markham was the next one to give 


A NEW SCOUT ^ 

expression to his views. ‘'I don’t think,” 
said he, ‘'that we want to associate with a 
boy who is a thief. I, for one, am not in 
favor of bringing criminals into this troop. 
I won’t vote for any boy that I can’t asso- 
ciate with, and I won’t associate with a 
tough boy like he is.” 

As he sat down, a buzz of approval ran 
through the room. 

Scouts nodded their heads in assent to 
this opinion and many expressions, such as 
“That’s right,” “We don’t want him,” were 
exchanged between members of the troop. 

“I don’t think we ought to take him in,” 
quickly said Girlie Carpenter, half arising. 

“We don’t want a boy like that in our 
troop,” said Boysey LeRoy, solemnly. 

“Boys,” said the Scout Master, with a 
serious tone in his voice which compelled 
attention, “let me give you his viewpoint. 
He has never had a chance in life; he has 
been handicapped by his lack of training; 
he has never had the influence of a good 
home; he has never had the companionship 
of good, clean, wholesome boys like you to 
help him; he has been kicked and buffeted 


36 BIFF McCARTY 

about; he is not a criminal. You can help 
him. You can give him a chance to make 
good in life. The scout law says a scout is 
helpful, he is friendly, he is kind. I hope 
you will be helpful and friendly and kind to 
him. Won’t you give him a chance?” 

Happy Holmes arose and said: ^^Mr. 
Scout Master, I make a motion we take him 
in. If we don’t like him, we can fire him 
afterward.” 

The laugh which followed relieved the 
tenseness of the situation and the motion 
was duly seconded by Dicky Byrd, after 
Deacon Parsons had spoken in favor of it. 

The Master announced: ‘'We will take a 
secret ballot, so that every scout can ex- 
press his real opinion without fear of criti- 
cism. The Adjutant will pass slips of paper 
and pencils.” 

While this was being done, Fuzzy and 
Girlie urged those about them: “Vote 
against him. Vote ‘No.’ We can’t have a 
fellow like him in the troop. Keep him 
out.” 

When the vote was taken it was found 
that twenty-three scouts voted in favor of 


A NEW SCOUT ^ 

his admission and only two voted against 
him. 

thank you, scouts, returned Mr. Hud- 
son, ‘'for your helpfulness. I believe Mc- 
Carty will make a good scout. At any rate, 
let us all receive him cordially and friendly. 
He may be suspicious of your sincerity at 
first. Make him feel that you are his 
friends. Give him a fair chance to make 
good.’" 

The next day Mr. Hudson told Bifif that 
he had been elected a member of the troop 
and he hoped to see him at the meeting Fri- 
day evening. 

The boy answered, ‘T dunno if I want to 
go."" 

“You"re not afraid, are you?"" queried 
Mr. Hudson. 

This imputation on his courage aroused 
his fighting spirit and he quickly replied: 
“No, Fm not afraid. Fll go an" see what 
it"s like. If I don’t like it, I can quit.” 

Mr. Hudson answered, “I am glad you 
will join. I know you will like it. It’s great 
fun — and think of the hikes, the games, and 
the athletics we have. I have some good 


38 BIFF McCARTY 

athletes in my troop, and you will have to 
go some to keep up with them.” Biff 
secretly resolved that he would ‘'show them 
guys a few things” when it came to athletics. 

Next Friday evening Biff, true to his 
word, appeared at the meeting of the troop 
in company with the Scout Master. It was 
a most unusual situation — the troop being 
determined to “fire” him if they did not like 
him, and Biff being resolved to “quit” if he 
did not like them. He was assigned to 
Bunny Brown’s patrol to fill the vacancy in 
that subdivision. As he took his seat. 
Bunny whispered, “Fm glad you’re in my 
patrol; we need another good athlete.” 

Red Parker, second class scout, was as- 
signed to train Biff in the requirements of 
a tenderfoot. “I’ll meet you to-morrow 
afternoon and show you how to tie the 
knots,” he whispered. “They’re pretty hard 
to tie, but I think you can do it.” This chal- 
lenge to Biff’s ability aroused his old nght- 
ing spirit and he flung back, “I betcher I 
can.” “Well, come to my house at four 
to-morrow and we’ll start to work,” replied 
Parker, giving him his address. 


A NEW SCOUT ^ 

Biff was an interested spectator of the 
proceedings of the evening, but concluded 
that he did not belong in their class, and 
when the troop was dismissed he walked out 
silently. Fuzzy Markham eyed him coldly 
and then quickly turned away his head. 
Biff instinctively realized his antagonism. 
At the door Bunny Brov/n overtook him 
and throwing his arm over his shoulder 
said: ‘'Say, Biff, I want you to help our 
patrol win the honor badge. We nearly 
skinned the Meadow Larks last time, and I 
believe we can do it next time if you will 
help.’’ This appeal for action struck a 
responsive chord in the boy’s nature. 

“Sure, I’ll help,” answered Biff with the 
first touch of friendliness he had yet ex- 
hibited. Thus closed his first evening as a 
scout. 

The next morning, when Mr. Hudson 
reached his office, he handed Biff a written 
order permitting him to purchase a uniform. 

Biff inquired, “How much does it cost?” 

“Six dollars,” replied Mr. Hudson, “for 
the complete uniform.” 

The boy’s face fell and he averted his 


40 BIFF McCARTY 

gaze. Divining the cause, Mr. Hudson 
said, “If you haven’t that much money now, 
I will lend it to you and you can repay me 
later on as you earn it.” 

“Yes, sir,” answered Biflf, eagerly. “I 
can pay you a dollar a week.” 

Mr. Hudson suggested : “I am afraid that 
would be too much. Suppose you pay 
twenty-five cents a week.” 

“Yes, I can do that, easy,” replied BifiF. 

That afternoon Biff went to the store 
which kept the scout uniforms for sale and 
selected one which fitted him, and after look- 
ing at himself admiringly in the mirror he 
thought, “Fll make some of them guys set 
up an’ take notice.” He paid for the uni- 
form while his civilian suit was being tied 
up in a box, which he placed under his arm, 
and then left the store and boarded a street 
car for his home. He looked the uniform 
over and over again with admiring eyes, 
and each inspection disclosed new beauties 
hitherto unnoticed. He was conscious of 
the admiring glances of his fellow pas- 
sengers and secretly rejoiced in their 
approval. When he reached his room he 


A NEW SCOUT ^ 

again gave himself a critical inspection in 
the mirror and concluded that there was 
nothing more to be desired. 

“It’s certainly a dandy suit,” he said 
aloud. “I’ll wear it to scout meetin’s an’ on 
Sundays.” 

Still this answer did not seem conclusive 
to him. He sat on the edge of his bed in 
deep thought ; and finally, after much effort, 
this answer arose from the tangled depths 
of his mind, “I know what I’ll do with this 
uniform. I’ll make good in it. I’ll show Mr. 
Hudson I ain’t a quitter. There ain’t no 
yellow streak in me.” Glancing at the clock 
on the mantel, he saw it was almost four 
o’clock, and, recalling his appointment with 
Red Parker at the latter’s house, he dashed 
out of his room and sped away in the direc- 
tion of the home of the scout who was to 
train him as a tenderfoot. 


CHAPTER IV 
The Burglar 

Big Bill had seen hard days since Biff 
left him. He had lost his job as bartender 
in the groggery, after the owner had de- 
tected him stealing money from the cash 
drawer. He had sought a similar job at 
other saloons, but no one would employ him. 
His reputation for drunkenness and dishon- 
esty had now become well known. Nothing 
was open for him but a job as a laborer, 
for which his enormous strength qualified 
him, but he steadfastly refused to do such 
work. 

'The world owes me a livin’, an’ I’m a 
goin’ out an’ git it, even if I have to stick up 
some guy,” he frequently philosophized. 

He was now out of money and desperate. 
Something had to be done! No one would 
give him work — the kind he wanted — and 
he decided to take by force or stealth what 
industry would have earned for him. He 
conceived the plan of robbing Biff’s friends 
42 


THE BURGLAR ^ 

— because anyone who was Biff’s friend 
was his enemy, and it would be a good 
chance to get even with Biff too. 

Big Bill chuckled to himself as he thought 
how easily he had trapped Dinky into giv- 
ing him Biff’s address. Now that he had it, 
he would even up some old scores against 
the boy. 

Of all this Biff was ignorant. 

'I’ll fix him to-night,” muttered Bill as 
he reached the door of the squalid tenement 
which he called home. Entering, he lighted 
a candle, when his eyes fell on the bottle in 
its customary place on the table. "I’ll take 
a swig o’ ’skey to brace my nerve,” he said 
half aloud. 

Half emptying the bottle, he armed him- 
self with an automatic forty-four revolver 
and placed in his pocket a black mask, a 
"jimmy,” a candle and matches, and a pair 
of felt "creepers” — to deaden the sound of 
his footsteps. Thus equipped, he walked 
out of the house saying, "Cottage Street, 
Cottage Street; I’ve got the number in my 
pocket.” 

It was long after midnight when he 


44 


BIFF McCARTY 


reached Cottage Street in the ten-hundred 
block. The street was deserted — not even 
a policeman in sight. He stopped under a 
street lamp, fumbled in his pocket and 
brought forth the torn piece of paper. He 
held it up to the light and read the figures 
‘^969.’’ A short walk brought him in front 
of a house with the number ^'969’’ on the 
door. 

‘'Here it is,’^ he muttered as he slipped 
cautiously around to the rear of the house. 
'Til rob the house before I croak Biff, an’ 
make a good job of it.” 

He tried the doors and windows on the 
lower floor. They were locked securely. 
He looked about him and saw the dim out- 
lines of a ladder leaning against an adjoin- 
ing residence — left by house painters whose 
work was not completed. Carrying the 
ladder across the yard, he placed it against 
the rear porch and mounted it. He now 
put on his creepers and mask. From the 
vantage ground of the second story he saw 
that two windows opening on the porch led 
to a sleeping room and a third window 
opened into a hall. All were locked. He de- 


THE BURGLAR ^ 

cided to force the hall window. Placing the 
point of his ''jimmy’’ under the window sash 
he began to exert his tremendous strength 
and the window slowly raised as the screws 
in the lock were torn from the wood in 
which they were embedded. In a moment 
the lock gave way with scarcely a sound and 
raising the lower sash he stepped softly into 
the hall and stood listening. Not a sound 
was heard. All was still as death. Next he 
lighted his candle, and carrying his gun in 
his right hand ready for instant use, he 
began to explore the house. He first de- 
scended the stairs and unlocked the front, 
back, and side doors to facilitate his escape 
in the event he should be discovered. He 
entered the dining-room, gathered all the 
silver from the sideboard, and after stuffing 
it in a bag placed it on the porch near the 
side door ready to be taken after he had 
completed his job. He now ascended the 
stairs and entered the bedroom on the left, 
which was occupied by the owner of the resi- 
dence and his wife, both of whom were 
sleeping peacefully. He picked up the man’s 
trousers from the chair on which they were 


46 BIFF McCARTY 

lying and searched the pockets and pro- 
duced a wallet bulging with currency. 
From another pocket he took a number of 
silver coins which were transferred quickly 
to his own pockets. From the dresser he 
took a gold watch with a fob attached, bear- 
ing the monogram L. S” Opening the 
drawers, he came upon two diamond rings, 
a combination pearl and ruby ring, and a 
sunburst of diamonds worn as a brooch. 
These were quickly added to his swag. He 
turned to explore a chiffonier and as he 
opened the top drawer it creaked, and the 
owner of the house turned uneasily in his 
sleep. Bill instantly extinguished his light 
and pointing his gun at the bed stood tense 
and expectant, with his finger on the 
trigger. 

He remained in this attitude — it seemed 
an hour, but in reality it was only a few 
minutes. At last the sound of slow, regular 
breathing told him that the man was asleep 
again and he lowered his gun and quietly 
went into the hall, deeming it unwise to take 
further chance of discovery with a creaky 
piece of furniture. Relighting his candle, 


THE BURGLAR ^ 

he went down the hall and opened the first 
door to the left. It was a spare bedroom 
and empty. At the rear of the hall he found 
the servant’s room. After a glance in it he 
thought, ‘There’s nothin’ in there worth 
takin’,” and silently closed the door. ‘T’ve 
got to find Biff,” he whispered. “He must 
be in one of these rooms.” 

He now retraced his steps down the hall 
and opened the first door on the right and 
stepped into a bedroom in which a fourteen- 
year-old boy was sleeping. He saw the 
familiar reddish blond curls covering a well- 
formed head protruding above the covers. 

“Ha ! Ha ! you young crook,” he muttered 
to himself. “You thought you’d escape me, 
did ye? Well, here’s where ye git what’s 
cornin’ to ye.” 

Bill’s face was contorted in an agony of 
rage and hate, and black with the fury of 
the hellish deed he was about to commit. 
Standing at the foot of the bed and holding 
the candle high with his left hand to shed its 
light on the curly head of the lad, he took 
aim with his gun, as his finger rested on 
the trigger. The flickering light of the 


48 BIFF McCARTY 

candle illuminated the glinting steel as his 
trigger finger closed in the grip which would 
send the deadly bullet speeding to its mark. 

“Fm a idiot,” muttered the man, sud- 
denly lowering his revolver. ''If I croak 
him with the gun, it dl wake up everybody 
an’ ril git pinched. I’ll strangle him.” 

He replaced the revolver in his pocket 
and stepped softly to the head of the bed, 
the muscles of his great brawny arms 
twitching with the malevolence of hate. He 
threw the light on the pillow. The boy 
turned restlessly in his sleep, which moved 
the quilt from his face, now upturned to the 
light. 

"My God ! it ain’t Biff,” shouted Bill. 

At the sound, the boy sprang up in bed 
and yelled for help at the top of his voice, 
while Bill dropped the candle and dashed 
from the room like a flash. Down the stairs 
and out the rear door he sped, scaling the 
back fence, running across lots and through 
alley after alley until the scene of his crime 
had been left far behind. He now slowed 
down to a walk and stopping in a vacant lot, 
overgrown with tall weeds, he hid his 


THE BURGLAR ^ 

jimmy/' mask, and ‘‘creepers." Then he 
returned to the street and walked slowly 
toward home. 

“That was a close call fer that kid," he 
said to himself. “It wasn't Biff. I musta 
got in the wrong house." He pulled the 
scrap of paper from his pocket and held it 
under a street lamp. “No. 969 is the right 
number," he muttered. “I can't make it out. 
I'm stumped. Well, anyway, I made a good 
haul to-night of coin and jewelry, if I did 
forget the silver. Biff will git what's cornin' 
to him as soon as I find him." 

The newspapers the following day con- 
tained an account of the burglary of the 
residence of Mr. A. L. Stevens, 969 Cottage 
Street. When Biff read the account aloud 
to Mr. Berger that night he remarked, cas- 
ually, “Isn't it funny, 969 is our number — 
696- — turned upside down. I'm glad he 
didn't come here." 

But he little suspected how his own life 
had hung on such a slender thread as an 
inverted number. 


CHAPTER V 
A New Patrol 

Biff quickly passed from a tenderfoot to 
a second-class scout, and as he advanced in 
scoutcraft his associations with the gang 
became less frequent. He no longer found 
either pleasure or excitement in the game 
of craps to which he himself had once been 
devoted. The gang seemed tougher and 
coarser than he had ever realized before. 
But at the same time he recalled their many 
acts of kindness and their loyalty and fidel- 
ity to him. He felt proud that they had 
made him their leader, not by any vote or 
formal expression of opinion, but by their 
actions in looking to him for leadership and 
advice and their willingness to obey his com- 
mands. 

He recalled too that the gang was not 
what it used to be in point of numbers. 
Swipes Denny and Sammy Weisman were 
both in the reform school on account of 
60 


A NEW PATROL ^ 

thefts which they had committed, while Red 
Kelly was serving time in the house of cor- 
rection for stabbing a man with a knife. 
Other changes in the personnel of the old 
gang had been caused by removals, but the 
spirit of the gang survived in those who 
remained. 

They still had their hang-out in the alley 
back of J Street, where they caused the 
police much trouble. In the absence of Biff, 
the leadership of the gang devolved on 
Dinky Rivetts, with Dutch Deichmann as 
his chief lieutenant. Some of these boys 
worked in neighboring factories, others sold 
newspapers, while a few did nothing. They 
varied in age from twelve to fifteen years, 
and were known as the ‘'Alley Gang,’’ which 
had the reputation of being the toughest boy 
gang that infested the city. 

Slats Kerrigan was one of the toughest 
members of this organization. On one 
occasion, while quarreling with a member 
of a rival gang, he said, boastingly: ‘T’m 
a tough guy, I am. I lives on Tough Street, 
an’ de farder down de street youse goes de 
tougher it gits, an’ I lives in de last house.” 


52 BIFF McCARTY 

He rejoiced in this reputation and endeav- 
ored to sustain it by his conduct. 

While loafing in the alley they passed 
their time in smoking cigarettes, shooting 
craps, and pitching pennies. They were a 
quarrelsome lot, but their belligerency was 
directed against outsiders, and seldom, if 
ever, toward members of their own gang. 

Bifif, with his new viewpoint of life, 
vaguely realized that the future outlook for 
the gang was dark. Sooner or later they 
would come into the toils of the police, and 
when they grew older the prison would 
open its doors for many of them. He won- 
dered how he might help his old friends. 

One day he rapped at the door of the 
private office of Mr. Hudson and upon being 
admitted, he said: "^Mr. Hudson, I would 
like to see you a minute, if you are not too 
busy.’' 

^^Certainly, Bifif,” said Mr. Hudson. ‘^Sit 
down.” 

The boy took the proffered seat and im- 
mediately began, '‘Mr. Hudson, you know 
the old gang down on J Street.” 

"Yes,” assented Mr. Hudson. 



BIFF AS A MEMBER OF THE ALLEY GANG 









T .. . ' ^ S^E^' vS ■’ '■ .'“-I 


• - n » 


VM 


- . 9 .f r 

• • ^ "^T --•^ - ■* -_‘ 

•?v.. ...!¥% 2 


f ‘ 


A NEW PATROL 


“Well, three of the boys are locked up, 
an’ they won’t get out till they are twenty- 
one years old.” 

“How many remain?” inquired Mr. 
Hudson. 

“Well, let’s see,” replied Biff. “There’s 
Mike Case, Swat Fogerty, Dutch Deich- 
mann, Slats Kerrigan, Skippy Connors, 
Dinky Rivetts, an’ Sindbad Saylor. Don’t 
'you think you could help them some way?” 
questioned Biff, eagerly. 

“I don’t know,” mused Mr. Hudson. 
“Have you ever thought of taking them 
into the Boy Scouts?” he suggested after a 
moment’s thought. 

“O, no!” responded Biff, quickly: “they 
are too tough for that.” 

“I don’t agree with you,” argued Mr. 
Hudson. 

“Besides, you couldn’t get ’em to join,” 
objected Biff. 

Mr. Hudson replied: “You might have 
some difficulty, but if you could succeed in 
arousing their interest in athletics, you 
might get them in. These boys are still 
your friends, aren’t they. Biff?” 


54 BIFF McCARTY 

‘'Yes, sir,’' assented Biff. 

“Then I suggest that you go down to the 
gang on Saturday night and try to organ- 
ize them into a new patrol to be trained by 
you, and we will receive them as the fourth 
patrol of our troop. I have great confidence 
in your ability to influence them, and believe 
you can get their consent. Be sure to tell 
them about the athletic features of the 
Scouts. That should make a strong appeal 
to them.” 

“Do you think the troop would elect them 
tough guys ?” queried the boy. 

“I believe they will,” announced Mr. 
Hudson, as his mind carried him back to the 
evening when Biff’s application for mem- 
bership was acted on. “If you will organ- 
ize them into a patrol and train them until 
they are ready for the tenderfoot examina- 
tion, I believe the troop will admit them, 
especially if you will recommend them. The 
boys have great faith in you and in your 
judgment.” 

“I’ll try it,” responded the boy. 

The next Saturday evening Biff appeared 
in his old haunts and was given a noisy and 


A NEW PATROL ^ 

cordial welcome by the gang. They were in 
their usual places in the alley, seated on the 
fence, on boxes and ash cans, smoking 
cigarettes and discussing events in which 
they were interested. The alley was a 
litter of empty tomato cans, ash heaps, and 
rubbish, where all the refuse from the abut- 
ting homes was dumped. Here, in this 
uninviting place, surrounded by dirt and 
debris, was the ^'hang-out’' of the gang 
where they concocted their plans for petty 
depredations. The principal topic for dis- 
cussion just before the arrival of Biff was 
ways and means for ''swipin’ ” a barrel of 
apples which stood on the sidewalk in front 
of Schultz’s grocery on the corner. 

"You go in an’ buy a pack o’ coffin tacks,” 
directed Skippy Connors to Mike Case, "an’ 
keep ole Schultz busy talkin’ to him, an’ we 
will slip ’roun’ the corner an’ tie a gunny 
sack over the top of the barrel to keep the 
apples from failin’ out, an’ then we’ll roll it 
away an’ hide it in Swat’s coal shed. Dutch 
will watch out for the cop, an’ give three 
whistles if he sees him cornin’.” 

The execution of these plans was stopped 


56 BIFF McCARTY 

by the arrival of Biff. After greetings 
were over, Biff plunged immediately into 
the subject by announcing: '‘Say fellers, we 
are going to organize a patrol of Boy 
Scouts.’' 

This announcement was greeted with a 
shout of derisive laughter. 

"Don’t make me laugh. Biff, me lip’s 
cracked,” gibed Dinky Rivetts. 

"We don’t wanta join them sissy boys,” 
scoffed Slats Kerrigan. 

"None of that fur mine,” added Skippy 
Connors. 

"What’s eatin’ you. Biff?” was the 
derisive interrogatory of Sindbad Saylor. 

"Now, listen, fellows,” replied Biff. "If 
you think you are getting in with a sissy 
bunch when you join the Boy Scouts, you 
are away off. Scouts are the boys that does 
things. They have more fun in an hour 
than you guys have all day. Instead of sit- 
ting around this alley shooting craps, they 
are out in the country on hikes and playing 
football, and having track meets and swim- 
ming and life-saving, and doing a whole lot 
of things that you guys never knew how to 


A NEW PATROL ^ 

do. The only thing I am afraid of is, if I 
take you into the Scouts, you can't make 
good and I'll be ashamed of you. They 
can clean you up on football, running, swim- 
ming, and boxing, and they would show 
you up good and proper on a cross-country 
hike." 

This reflection on their physical ability 
struck home deeply and their pride in their 
athletic prowess was sorely hurt. 

Mike Case inquired, after a moment's 
reflection, ‘'Are them guys as good as all 
that?" 

“Sure they are," responded Biff, “an' 
even better. You fellows will have to go 
some to keep up with the Scouts." 

“Well, what do we have to do to join?" 
inquired Dinky. 

“All you have to do," replied Biff, “is to 
hold up your hand an' say you will make 
good as a scout." 

“Sure we can do that," responded sev- 
eral. 

“I'm not so sure of it," continued Biff. 
“Just because you're cocks of the walk 
around J Street, you needn't think you will 


BIFF McCARTY 


58 

be big roosters in the Scouts. There’s guys 
in that troop that can beat you in any game 
you ever played.” 

"‘Naw, they couldn’t,” denied Slats Ker- 
rigan, with a doubtful tone in his voice. 

‘‘What do you say to us givin’ them ginks 
a try ?” questioned Dinky Rivetts to the gang. 

“I’m wit you,” said Dutch Deichmann. 

As leader and the chief lieutenant went, 
so went the gang, and then and there in the 
alley was organized the new patrol of Troop 
20. 

“When do we begin?” questioned Skippy 
Connors. 

“Right now,” answered their old leader, 
again in command of the gang. 

“Well, start sumpin’,” urged Swat Fo- 
gerty, while Mike Case insisted, “Get busy, 
Bitf.” 

“Well, you see, fellers,” began Biff, “it’s 
like this : before you can join the troop. I’ve 
got to try you out to see if you can make 
good. If you fail, you can’t get in. I told 
Mr. Hudson — ^he’s the Scout Master, you 
know — that I believed you could make it, 
and he says to me, ‘Go ahead an’ try ’em. 


A NEW PATROL ^ 

Biff!’ — ^just like that; so I says to myself, 
Til come down an’ see if the gang means 
business.’ If you mean business, fellers, 
you can make good. Are you with me?” 

‘'Sure, we are,” answered the boys in 
chorus. 

“Well, if you’re with me, you’ve got to 
do what I tell you,” asserted Biff with all the 
old-time authority of leadership ringing in 
his voice. He was once more the fearless 
gang leader, ready to enforce his com- 
mands by the strength of his right arm. 

“I can turn a han’spring under water,” 
quickly asserted Slats, as proof of his quali- 
fications for becoming a scout. 

“Button yer lip,” retorted Biff, lapsing 
into the gang vernacular. “Youse guys 
can’t do nothin’ exceptin’ with your hands. 
You’ve got to have brains to be scouts. I’ll 
try you on your brains. The first thing you 
got to learn is the scout oath, and you’ve 
got to learn it so you can say it off by heart.” 

There in the alley, in the dim light of a 
distant street lamp, the eight boys repeated 
the oath, over and over again, until all could 
say it correctly. 


BIFF McCARTY 


6o 

'That’s fine, fellers,” commended Biff. 
"Fll tell Mr. Hudson that this crowd has 
got the brains.” 

The praise of their leader reflected itself 
in the pleased expression on every face. 

"Now, the next thing you have got to 
know is how to tie knots. Who’s got a piece 
of rope?” queried their leader. 

"I’ll swipe a piece from Schultz’s,” said 
Skippy Connors, starting in the direction of 
the grocery. 

"Come back here,” yelled Biff. "The 
first thing you scouts have got to do is to 
quit swipin’ things.” 

The reproved Skippy slowly returned, 
wondering how the scouts could become a 
success if they did not take what they 
wanted. 

"I got a long piece on my huckster 
wagon,” said Dinky. "I’ll get it,” and away 
he raced up the alley to the lot where he 
and his older brother kept their wagon used 
for peddling vegetables. He returned bear- 
ing a one-eighth inch rope eighteen or 
twenty feet long. 

"You can have this. Biff ; I don’t need it.” 


A NEW PATROL ^ 

The rope was cut into seven equal pieces 
and the scout leader demonstrated how to 
tie various knots, giving special attention to 
the duller boys until, at last, all could ac- 
curately tie and name eight different knots. 
The most interesting event of the evening 
was reserved for the last. It was the drill. 
Biff announced wiith great dignity, 'Tel- 
lows, we go out on parades and marches and 
you must learn how to march like soldiers. 
Patrol, fall in!'’ 

The gang looked sheepishly at each other 
while Mike Case inquired, '‘What do you 
want us to fall into — a sewer or a cistern?" 

The boy leader then explained the mean- 
ing of the command and how to execute it. 
Afterward followed such commands as : 
"Right dress. Attention. Salute. Count 
off by twos. Twos right; forward march." 
Biff displayed much patience with the awk- 
ward squad, drilling them persistently in 
these simple movements until a semblance 
of military order appeared. Then, at their 
head, he marched them around the block, 
keeping step with a ''hep, hep, hep," during 
which the people of the neighborhood 


62 BIFF McCARTY 

looked out of their windows in amazement 
and wondered what new lawlessness the 
gang was engaged in. Returning to the 
alley, the boys were lined up in patrol front, 
five feet apart, and their leader put them 
through the setting-up exercises which were 
conducted so quickly and so vigorously that 
the boys were blowing like porpoises when 
they had finished. They enjoyed it hugely 
and managed to extract much fun from 
these military calisthenics, during which 
they kept up a rapid interchange of 'jokes 
and badinage, with much laughter. 

Then Biff announced: 'That’s all for to- 
night, fellows. Practice these things we’ve 
learned, and I’ll be down again next Satur- 
day night and I’ll show you some more 
things.” 

"Do them guys,” interrogated Dinky, 
referring to the members of Troop 20, "know 
all them things ?” 

"Yes,” responded Biff, "an’ a lot more.” 

"They’re some guys, ain’t they?” asserted 
Swat Fogerty. 

"All I ask of you, fellows,” said their 
leader, "is to make good, so’s I won’t be 


A NEW PATROL ^ 

ashamed of you. You know I told Mr. 
Hudson you’d make good, an’ I don’t want 
you to make me out a liar. You’ve done fine 
to-night and you’ll do better every night 
an’ in a few weeks you’ll be good enough 
to join the troop. I want you to do me 
proud.” 

^'Sure, we will,” assented the boys. 

''So long, fellows. I’ll see you next Satur- 
day night, an’ I’ll wear my scout uniform,” 
said Bifif, who then walked down the alley 
and over the street where he caught .a car 
for his home on the opposite side of the 
city. 

"Purty good, wasn’t it?” remarked Sind- 
bad, lighting a cigarette. 

"Not so bad,” returned Mike Case. 

"Got the makin’s?” inquired Slats of 
Dinky, who ignored the inquiry by announc- 
ing, "Say! youse guys has got to get busy 
an’ learn this stuff, ’cause Biff wants us to.” 
A hush fell on the gang at this tone of seri- 
ousness in their leader’s voice. He contin- 
ued: "We’ve got to make good, ’cause Biff 
told ’em we would, an’ we can’t make him 
out a liar. An’ you,” addressing Skippy 


64 BIFF McCARTY 

Connors, ''have got to learn that drill better 
or ril knock your block off. See T' 

Skippy protested that he was doing as 
well as the others, but hastened to say, 
prompted by fear of the violence of his gang 
leader, that he "would practice some at 
home.’’ 

"When do we git in a football game with 
them guys?” inquired Slats Kerrigan. 

"Wait till you git into the troop, you 
mutt,” answered Dinky Rivetts. 

"Dere goes that guy. Boots O’Brien,” 
said Swat. "I’m a goin’ to soak him on the 
coco with dis rock.” 

"Can that rough stuff,” shouted Dinky. 
"You’re a fine scout, ain’t you? — after what 
Biff told us.” 

Then the gang dispersed to their several 
homes, each one’s mind filled with the "new 
stuff” which they had learned that evening 
and proud ‘of their old leader who was able 
to teach them things they had never known 
before. 

The gang had been too busy that evening 
to engage in their customary infractions of 
law and disturbance of the peace of the 


A NEW PATROL 


65 

neighborhood. When Officer Hagerty met 
his sergeant at the corner of the beat at mid- 
night, he remarked: ^'The Alley Gang has 
bin a-kapin^ turrible quiet to-night. I 
wonder what diviltry they be hatchin’ up 
now ?” 

‘'Keep your eye on ’em, Hagerty,” cau- 
tioned the sergeant, “and run ’em in, if they 
don’t behave.” 


CHAPTER VI 
The Fire Patrol in Action 

Friday evening again rolled around and 
with it came the regular meeting of the 
troop. The particular topic of instruction 
for the evening was first aid to the injured. 
The Scout Master had devoted the previous 
meeting to the subject of anatomy. He de- 
scribed the bones of the body, and had made 
his instruction effective by displaying a 
human skeleton until every boy in the troop 
was familiar with the names of the bones 
comprising the framework of the human 
structure and their uses. 

He now began to tell them of the muscles 
which clothe this bony frame and of the 
organs of the body which perform its work. 
His talk was interrupted by the loud clang 
of a fire engine which passed the door going 
south at a rapid pace. 

In a few seconds the hose reel and hook 
and ladder of the fire department followed. 

66 


FIRE PATROL IN ACTION 67 

The scouts were keenly alive to this excite- 
ment, although discipline restrained their 
desire to rush to the door and witness the 
exciting spectacle. 

In a moment several more pieces of fire 
apparatus thundered by the door, going in 
the same direction, and it was apparent that 
a great fire was in progress. Shortly after- 
ward other vehicles of the fire department 
went tearing by, indicating that a third 
alarm had been given and that the confla- 
gration was a serious one. 

The Scout Master went to the window 
and, looking out, saw the southern sky red- 
dened by the dull glare of flames, with im- 
mense volumes of smoke pouring upward. 

The fire seemed to be close at hand — not 
more than half a mile — and in a section of 
the city occupied by lumber yards, planing 
mills, and the small homes of workmen em- 
ployed in these industries. 

Returning to his desk, he said: ^'Fellows, 
this is a big fire. I fear many homes will 
be swept away. We may be able to render 
some service to the police or fire depart- 
ment by our presence. Suppose we go 


68 BIFF McCARTY 

over and lend a helping hand, if we are 
needed/’ 

A loud chorus of “Yes, let’s go!” greeted 
this suggestion and immediately the Scout 
Master gave the command, “Troop, fall in!” 
They took their places in line, acording to 
size. “Now count off by twos. Twos left. 
Forward, march! Column right, march!” 
And the troop headed down the street in the 
direction of the fire, which shed an ever- 
increasing glare of light on the surround- 
ing streets and houses. 

Arriving at the scene, they found a fierce 
conflagration in a five-story planing mill, 
surrounded by huge stacks of lumber used 
in the manufacture of mill work. 

The entire fire department of the city was 
on the scene, called out by a third alarm, 
and thousands of people were rapidly pour- 
ing in from every street to witness the awe- 
inspiring spectacle. 

The firemen were hampered by the 
crowds which densely packed the surround- 
ing streets to obtain a nearer view of the 
roaring furnace of fire. The few police 
present were insufficient in number to pre- 


FIRE PATROL IN ACTION 69 

vent them from encroaching on the streets 
occupied by the firemen and their appar- 
atus. 

Scout Master Hudson approached the 
captain in charge of the police detail and 
said, ‘'Captain, I offer you the services of 
my Boy Scouts for guard duty.’’ 

The captain replied: ‘T shall be glad to 
have your help. Deploy your boys along 
Railroad and K Streets, and I will use my 
officers elsewhere.” 

The Scout Master resumed command of 
the troop which he had left in charge of the 
Adjutant, and at the word of command, the 
troop swung into Railroad Street. Then 
the command, “Company, halt! Twos right 
into line,” swung the whole troop straight 
into line facing the immense crowd of 
people which filled the street almost to suf- 
focation. 

Then the Scout Master, addressing the 
crowd said: “Gentlemen, I must ask you 
to move back out of the danger zone, at least 
a block. It is necessary, not only for your 
own safety, but also to give the firemen 
room in which to work.” 


70 BIFF McCARTY 

Then giving the command, ^'Company, 
forward, march the troop, filling the street 
from house to house in one unbroken line, 
slowly marched forward with military pre- 
cision, driving the crowd before them, 
which retreated step by step until they had 
been driven back to a point of safety. 

Leaving one half the troop as guards to 
prevent the encroachment of the crowd, the 
other half reformed into line and at double- 
quick, swung down the street, a block south, 
into K Street. Here the same action was 
repeated, and the crowd was slowly driven 
back and held where they would be removed 
from the danger of flying embers and fall- 
ing timbers and permit the firemen to work 
without hindrance. 

Presently a big, burly teamster, six feet 
tall, broke through the line of scouts and 
started down the street toward the fire. 
Little Dicky Byrd, the smallest scout in the 
troop, running in front of him and blocking 
his way shouted, “Hey! Mister, you'll have 
to get out of here. Them's the orders. 
You'll have to get back of that line." 

The teamster looked down on the dimin- 


FIRE PATROL IN ACTION 71 

utive boy and gasped: ''Well, Fm blowed. 
Who are you, kid?’' 

"Fm no kid,” replied Dicky, "Fm a boy 
scout and Fve got orders to hold the crowd 
back of that line and you’ll have to go back. 
Gwan now,” he concluded with an author- 
itative wave of his hand. 

The authority of the scout uniform had 
its effect, and the teamster, slowly and 
reluctantly retreating toward the line, said, 
"Well, this is the first time I ever took orders 
from a kid.” 

The crowd enjoyed the incident hugely, 
and when the teamster reached the place in 
the line from which he had started, the 
crowd broke into a cheer for the plucky 
little scout. This unexpected action puzzled 
and somewhat frightened Dicky, who in- 
quired of the Adjutant what it meant. 

The Adjutant replied : "It means that the 
crowd is with you, Dicky, and that you are 
doin’ your duty. Stick to it.” 

The conflagration was increasing every 
moment. Dry shavings and wood fur- 
nished tinderlike fuel for the flames. The 
inflammable material burned fiercely, shoot- 


72 BIFF McCARTY 

ing great forked tongues of flame up into 
the sky, illuminating the city for blocks 
around with the brilliancy of daylight. 

The heat was terrific. The many streams 
of water shooting out from the nozzles held 
by the firemen seemed to have little or no 
effect on the flames. So intense was the 
heat that the water was turned into steam, 
and carried away as vapor, mingled with 
dense volumes of smoke that seethed, boiled, 
and rose in a mighty cloud like an eruption 
of Vesuvius. 

The wind had now begun to carry burn- 
ing brands far to the north and east, at the 
imminent danger of extending the confla- 
gration. The fierce heat of the fire began 
to crack panes of glass and blister the paint 
on residences half a block away. It was 
apparent that these homes would soon be 
doomed. 

The Scout Master picked a detail of six 
of the largest boys, and leaving the guard 
line on Railroad Street under the command 
of the Quartermaster, he marched his patrol 
to the threatened homes and began to warn 
their occupants to leave the buildings, and to 


FIRE PATROL IN ACTION 73 

assist them in carrying their household 
goods to places of safety. 

The scout uniform seemed to add the 
weight of authority to every request made 
of the people to abandon their homes, and 
the boy scouts assisted the occupants in 
carrying their household effects beyond the 
line of danger. 

In one home they picked up a cot upon 
which an elderly invalid woman was lying, 
and tenderly and safely carried her a block 
away, placing her temporarily in a resi- 
dence where she would receive attention 
until the danger had passed and she could be 
restored to her own home. 

For more than an hour they did the 
work of men in saving imperiled property, 
and at all times they were quieting the fears 
of alarmed women and children with words 
of counsel and advice. , A great responsi- 
bility had been thrust suddenly upon them, 
but they exemplified the motto of the organ- 
ization, '‘Be Prepared and they were pre- 
pared for this emergency. 

The fire in the planing mill had now 
reached its climax. Great yellow, red, and 


74 BIFF McCARTY 

white tongues of flame shot upward and out- 
ward until the mill resembled a glowing 
furnace of molten metal. Huge streams of 
fire shot into the heavens, illuminating the 
clouds with weird and fantastic shapes 
which were reflected down on the streets 
again. Lurid lights flashed and then were 
obliterated by whirling clouds of smoke. 
Brilliantly colored sheets of flame flung 
themselves skyward like scarlet banners 
borne on the breeze. The crash of falling 
floors, resounding like the booming of dis- 
tant thunder, sent a shower of sparks and 
burning brands high into the air, which then 
fell upon the surrounding houses. 

The heat from this inferno was almost 
unbearable, even at the great distance the 
firemen were compelled to stand and to 
endure it, and they continually drenched 
their faces, helmets, and slickers with 
water. 

A great crack developed in the side wall 
of the five-story structure. The assistant 
fire chief noticed it and commanded his men 
on that side of the building to retreat a hun- 
dred feet farther from the building. They 


FIRE PATROL IN ACTION 75 

had scarcely obeyed his orders when the 
south wall buckled and collapsed with a 
detonation like a gigantic blast. The brick 
wall fell outward, covering adjacent piles 
of lumber with red-hot brick and mortar. 
Again a huge tongue of flame and a shower 
of sparks and burning brands shot two hun- 
dred feet into the air. 

The firemen on the three remaining sides 
of the building were now withdrawn still 
farther from the dangerous walls, while 
those on the side which had fallen moved 
back to their former places, still pouring 
many streams of water into the seething 
furnace. 

The rear wall of the mill had a dangerous 
lean toward the inside, and in a few moments 
it swayed, toppled, and went crashing in- 
ward, carrying with it a corner of the north 
wall. 

The residences nearest the planing mill, so 
lately abandoned and stripped of their fur- 
niture, began to blister. Black smoke curl- 
ing from the eaves of these homes indicated 
they would soon burst into flames. Almost 
as quickly as it can be told, a huge sheet 


76 BIFF McCARTY 

of flame shot up from the roofs of the line of 
residences nearest the conflagration. 

The firemen were now between two fires 
and their situation was desperate. The 
chief took in the situation at a glance, and 
ordered hose companies eighteen, three, five, 
nine, sixteen, and four to play their streams 
on the houses which were now a raging 
mass of flames. 

Suddenly a wild-eyed woman, with dis- 
heveled hair, broke through the line, scream- 
ing, ‘‘My child ! My child ! — she’s in there,” 
pointing to the second story of a house 
wrapped in a mantle of flame and dense with 
smoke. 

Mr. Hudson caught her in his arms. “You 
can’t go. It would be death for you,” he 
said. 

“I must! I must!” she moaned, strug- 
gling to free herself. “Let me go.” 

“I’ll go,” said Biff, making a dash toward 
the building. He was caught in the vise-like 
grip of Bunny Brown and Scotty McGregor, 
as the former pleaded, “Don’t do it. Biff. 
You’ll never come out alive.” 

“No,” added Scotty. “It’s foolhardy.” 


FIRE PATROL IN ACTION 77 

With a wrench of his arms and body, 
Biff released the hold of his captors and 
before he could be stopped he bounded 
through the doorway of the house and 
groped about through the pall of smoke for 
the stairs. He pulled his handkerchief from 
his pocket and tied it over his nose and 
mouth. Then he stumbled against the 
bottom stair step. Feeling his way with his 
hands through blinding smoke, he quickly 
mounted the stairs and opened a door. A 
sheet of flame flashed in his face and drove 
him back, singeing his hair and eyebrows. 
The door of another room, filled with smoke 
and flame, was open. Crawling on hands 
and knees, with his face near the floor where 
the air was less dense with smoke, he 
searched for the girl, without success. 
He tried the back room — crawling in on 
his breast. It was a seething furnace of 
smoke and flame. The woodwork around 
the windows was burning fiercely. The 
floor was smoking hot with tongues of 
flame shooting up in the far corner. By 
the light of these flames he could faintly 
see through the swirling cloud of smoke 


78 BIFF McCARTY 

the outlines of a figure huddled on the 
floor under the window. He crawled rap- 
idly toward it, and grasping the girl by 
the hair, he began to draw her toward the 
door, exerting all his wonderful strength in 
the effort, but making slow progress. He 
now noticed that her clothing was aflame. 
He beat out the fire with his hands until 
they were seared and blistered. Black, gas- 
eous smoke filled the room and choked him. 
Every breath was like a sheet of flame in his 
lungs. He gasped for breath as the poison- 
ous smoke strangled him. His dry, parched 
throat had swollen until his tongue pro- 
truded from his mouth. His eyeballs seemed 
about to start from their sockets. He real- 
ized that, with his failing strength, he 
could not drag the girl to safety in the 
manner he had attempted. A thought 
flashed through his reeling brain — the fire- 
man's drag — which he had learned in the 
scouts. Quickly removing the handkerchief 
from his mouth, he used it to tie both wrists 
of the girl together. It seemed an eternity ! 
Everything was getting black before his 
eyes. He placed himself on hands and knees 


FIRE PATROL IN ACTION 79 


astride the prostrate figure and thrusting his 
head through her bound wrists he began to 
crawl toward the door, dragging the girl 
with him. A s^irl of blackness passed 
through his brain. Summoning all his 
reserve power of will and muscle, he slowly 
dragged himself and his burden out the 
door, then into the upper hall and down the 
steps, where he lay for a moment gasping 
for breath in the somewhat purer air of the 
lower floor. Then taking up in his arms the 
unconscious girl, he staggered out the door 
and fell limply into the waiting arms of his 
comrades. 

A great cheer burst from the throats of 
the multitude, which rose and swelled until 
it drowned the roar of the conflagration, as 
they saw Biff appear with his burden. The 
cool, pure air of the night soon restored 
both the girl and the scout. Biff, filling 
his lungs with pure air, asked, faintly, 
"‘How is she?’^ Being assured that she was 
safe and not badly injured, he remarked, 
“Fm glad o’ that,” and turned over on the 
sidewalk where he lay and moaned, “My 
hands are burnin’ up.” 


8o 


BIFF McCARTY 


No one would have recognized the boy. 
His face was blackened by smoke ; eyebrows 
and eyelashes were burned away, while the 
hair of his head, which was not protected 
by his hat, was gone. Both hands were a 
mass of fiery burns, and his uniform was 
dotted with blackened patches where the 
flames had eaten through. He was assisted 
outside the fire lines to the office of a neigh- 
boring physician, where his burns were 
dressed with cooling lotions and then band- 
aged. During this treatment he recovered 
his strength and insisted on returning to 
his post of duty with his troop. As he made 
his way back to his comrades, the crowd 
recognized the plucky lad and renewed 
their cheers in approval of his heroisim 

A flood of water, forced from the nozzles 
by the powerful pumping of the steam 
engines, was poured on the burning homes. 
By concentrating their streams on one 
house at a time, the flames gradually disap- 
peared, leaving blackened, charred, and drip- 
ping ruins as a reminder of the superhuman 
power of a great conflagration. 

Gradually the fire in the mill burned itself 


FIRE PATROL IN ACTION 8i 

out. Fifty police reserves, called from sta- 
tions in distant parts of the city, now ap- 
peared on the scene. The crowd had begun 
to turn homeward, now that the fire was 
under control. The scouts had accom- 
plished their work, and their places were 
taken by police officers who had just arrived. 

Upon the appearance of the police the 
troop formed into line, and at the command, 
''Forward, march!’' they went swinging up 
the street in the direction of their club 
rooms. Upon reaching their quarters the 
Scout Master said: "My boys, all of you 
have done a good turn to-night and Mc- 
Carty has earned a medal for heroism in 
saving a human life. Troop is dismissed.” 


CHAPTER VII 


The ‘Tigers"^ 

Biff appeared in the alley every Satur- 
day evening, where the gang awaited him 
eagerly. Under his leadership they made 
rapid progress in the requirements of a 
tenderfoot. Biff announced to Mr. Hudson 
his belief that the patrol would be ready for 
examination the following week. Mr. Hud- 
son thanked Biff and concluded, shall 
vote on their admission at our next meet- 
ing.” 

When Friday night arrived the Scout 
Master told the troop the story of the gang, 
their lack of opportunities, their lawlessness 
caused by bad environment and lack of 
training, and expressed the belief that Troop 
20 could open the door for their reforma- 
tion. He concluded by saying that Biff had 
trained the new patrol until they were pre- 
pared for the examination and that he and 
Biff recommended their admission. 

The troop had already learned to love and 
82 


THE ^TIGERS^^ ^ 

admire Biff and they relied greatly on his 
judgment. Curly Coover arose, saluted, and 
said, ^‘Mr. Scout Master, I move we admit 
these seven boys to form the fourth patrol.’' 

The motion was seconded by Toots 
Weaver and Bunny Brown, when Fuzzy 
Markham arose and said : 'T am not in favor 
of taking them in. We don’t know these 
boys. They are not in our set, and, besides, 
the troop is large enough already.” 

A wave of shame and mortification spread 
over Biff’s face. After the matter had been 
discussed, a secret ballot was taken. Every 
member of the troop, except one, voted in 
favor of their admission. 

Mr. Hudson said: ‘Tellows, I am proud 
of this vote. It is one of the biggest things 
you have ever done. Biff, will you instruct 
them to appear here next Friday evening 
for examination?” 

'Wes, sir,” quickly responded Biff; "I’ll 
have them here.” 

The troop assembled early and a buzz of 
expectancy was evident. They were curious 
to know what kind of boys they were going 
to admit into their fellowship. Their per- 


84 


BIFF McCARTY 


sonal appearance, their dress, and their ath- 
letic ability were all subjects of much specu- 
lation. Presently the new patrol marched 
in, with Biff at their head, who -introduced 
each one to the Scout Master. After a cor- 
dial greeting from Mr. Hudson the boys 
took their seats. They squirmed about 
uneasily while the members of the troop eyed 
them curiously. Fuzzy Markham pushed 
his chair back to avoid any possible contact 
with them. 

The Scout Master said, ‘T think we will 
begin with the knots first,’’ producing sev- 
eral pieces of rope. The boys began tying 
knots with great rapidity, passing quickly 
from one to another until eight different 
knots had been tied. 

^^That is very good, fellows,” commended 
Mr. Hudson. 

Then followed the history of the Amer- 
ican flag and the Scout law, over which they 
blundered somewhat, but displayed a more 
accurate knowledge than Mr. Hudson had 
expected. 

‘'Boys, that is fine,” praised the Scout 
Master. “You have been elected to member- 


THE "TIGERS^^ ^ 

ship in this troop and have passed your ex- 
amination, and you are now ready to be 
sworn in as tender feet. Now you will 
please rise and make the Scout sign.’’ 

The seven boys then repeated the Scout 
oath in unison and resumed their seats. Mr. 
Hudson said: ^'Scouts, I am glad to wel- 
come you as members of Troop No. 20. The 
reputation of this troop is high, and I want 
you to do your best to keep it so. I know 
you fellows will make good ; I believe in you 
and have faith in you, and I know you will 
not disappoint me.” 

As he concluded Bunny Brown jumped to 
his feet and shouted, “Three cheers for the 
new patrol!” — and they were given with a 
ringing fervor. 

The Scout Master then announced, 
“Biff, you are transferred from the Eagle 
Patrol to the new patrol. The next order 
of business will be the election of a Patrol 
Leader and a Corporal and the selection of 
a name for the patrol. Nominations are 
now in order for Patrol Leader.” 

With one accord the seven boys compos- 
ing the new patrol shouted, “Biff, Biff, 


86 BIFF McCARTY 

Biff/’ while this subject for Scout honors 
sat silent, with bowed head and eyes fixed 
on the floor. 

''Scout McCarty has been placed in nomi- 
nation; are there any other nominations?” 
inquired the Scout Master. 

Deadly silence and black scowls from the 
seven followed this inquiry. 

"If there are no other nominations,” 
said Mr. Hudson, "I will appoint Scout 
Connors to cast the ballot of the patrol for 
Scout McCarty as Patrol Leader.” 

The boy, pleased at this distinction, began 
laboriously to write the ballot. After what 
seemed to be an interminable time he handed 
the piece of paper to the Scout Master, on 
which was written, in a scrawl, the single 
word "bif.” 

"By your ballot you have elected Scout 
McCarty as your leader,” announced the 
Scout Master. 

"Three cheers fer Biff,” shouted Swat 
Fogerty, and the entire troop, with one 
exception, joined in lusty cheers for the boy 
leader. 

Dinky Rivetts was nominated for Cor- 


THE "TIGERS" ^ 

poral and elected unanimously — as he voted 
for himself. 

‘‘The next business will be the selection 
of a name for your patrol/' said Mr. Hud- 
son. 

Biff inquired, “Won't you suggest some 
names for us to choose from?" 

The Scout Master responded, “There are 
many suitable names, such as Fox, Bison, 
Beaver, Otter, Blue Jay, Hawk, Stag, Bear, 
Raven, Owl, and Humming Bird." These 
suggestions were received in silence which 
was broken by Mr. Hudson's inquiry, “Per- 
haps you have thought of a name, your- 
selves ?" 

Dinky Rivetts arose and said, “Mr. Hud- 
son, we don't want no name like them. We 
wanta call ourselves the ‘Tigers.' " 

“A good suggestion," replied Mr. Hud- 
son. “Let each member of the patrol rise 
and state his preference for a name." 

With one accord the patrol arose and 
yelled, “Tigers." 

“As there is no dissent on the subject, 
you will be called the ‘Tiger Patrol,' " con- 
cluded Mr. Hudson. 


88 BIFF McCARTY 

Then the troop resumed their work for 
the evening — signaling with flags by the 
Morse Code — on which the Tigers looked 
with eager interest. When time for dis- 
missal came the Scout Master addressed the 
newly elected members and inquired about 
their ability to procure uniforms. The 
boys shuffled about uneasily until Dinky said, 
'‘We ain't got the money right now, but we 
kin earn it." 

Quartermaster Coover arose and said, 
"Mr. Scout Master, we have forty-three 
dollars and eighty-five cents in the troop 
treasury. I move that we lend these scouts 
forty-two dollars to buy seven uniforms and 
they can pay it back at twenty-five cents a 
week." 

Seconds to this motion came quickly from 
all parts of the room, and the motion was 
carried without a negative vote. 

As the troop filed out of the club room 
Bunny Brown locked his arm in Biff's and 
said, "I'm mighty sorry to lose you from my 
patrol, old man, but I congratulate you on 
being elected Patrol Leader." 

"Thank you, Bunny," replied Biff. "It's 


THE ^TIGERS^’ 


89 


a great honor an’ Em goin’ to do my 
best.” 

Many other scouts crowded around the 
newly elected leader and tendered their con- 
gratulations. McGregor approached Rivetts 
and extending his hand, said, cordially, 
‘'Dinky, Em Scotty — shake.” 

The boys fraternized under the influence 
of this cordial reception, which was still 
further increased when Captain Coover, 
addressing the new members, said, “Fel- 
lows, we want you to come out to-morrow 
afternoon and try for the football team. I 
know some of you can make the scrubs and 
perhaps some may make the regulars.” 

This appeal to their physical natures was 
instantly accepted. Mike Case responded, 
“Sure, we’ll come,” while others replied, 
“You betcher life we’ll be there.” 

This exhibition of friendliness placed the 
new scouts at their ease and raised the troop 
immensely in their estimation. After “Good 
night” had been said, the boys separated 
to go to their several homes. Swat Fogerty 
remarked to his companions, “Them guys 
ain’t stuck up a bit.” 


BIFF McCARTY 


= 

"‘Naw/’ assented Sindbad. 'They're 
just common guys like us." 

"They certainly can play football," 
asserted Dinky, while Dutch added, "Fd 
like to make their reg'lar team." 

"Does youse think we can ever learn that 
signalin' business?" inquired Skippy Con- 
nors. 

"Sure you can," replied Mike Case, "if 
you use your nut. It's got a kernel in it, 
even if it does look like solid ivory." 

"Aw, you're not such a much," retorted 
Skippy. 

Slats Kerrigan directed the conversation 
into a new channel by inquiring, "Kin we 
git our uniforms to-night?" 

"Naw," returned Dinky, "we'll git 'em to- 
morrer after we knock off work at one 
o'clock, an' that'll give us plenty o' time to 
git to the ball game at four." 

As the boys approached the neighborhood 
of J Street they separated for their homes 
with, "So long, fellers. See you to-morrer." 


CHAPTER VIII 
Big Bill at Work Again 

Big Bill had spent the proceeds of his 
burglary in riotous living and prolonged 
debauches until the last of his ill-gotten 
money was gone. In his sober intervals, 
which were few, he tried to locate Biff. He 
was searching for Dinky to obtain this 
information, but Biff had warned Dinky, 
as well as the other members of the Tiger 
patrol, to tell him nothing. 

'‘Where's Biff?" inquired Bill, as he 
encountered Dinky on the street one night. 

'T told you once," replied the boy. 

"Yes, but I lost the paper." 

"What do you want to know for?" ques- 
tioned Dinky. 

"I'm a goin' to crack every bone in his 
body fer puttin' his brand on me," replied 
Big Bill, as he pointed to the scar on his 
forehead — forgetting for the moment that 
he was talking with Biff's friend. 

91 


92 BIFF McCARTY 

‘'Well, ril never tell you,” answered 
Dinky — and then ducked to escape the 
swinging blow aimed at his head. In 
another moment his swift legs had carried 
him far down the street to safety. 

Big Bill shook his fist at the retreating 
figure and shouted, “Fll git you too.” He 
continued on his way until he came to a 
dilapidated shack in the outskirts of the 
city, built of odd pieces of boards, tin, sheet 
iron, and building paper. The hut was dark 
and silent. He approached the door and 
gave three low whistles. 

“Who’s there?” came from the inside. 

“It’s me. Big Bill,” he answered. 

A candle was lighted and the door opened. 
Big Bill stepped inside and closed the door 
behind him. 

“Gimme a drink. Jack?” he asked, taking 
a seat on a stool. 

Three-Finger Jack shoved a bottle 
across the table with a hand from which 
the thumb and forefinger were missing. He 
was an ex-convict who had lost these two 
fingers by the premature explosion of nitro- 
glycerin while blowing a safe. 


BIG BILL AT WORK 93 

''WhaBs doin’, Bill?” he inquired. 

''Nothin’. I’m broke, an’ down an’ out,” 
replied Bill, dejectedly. 

"So am I,” returned Jack. "But I know 
where we can make a raise.” 

"I’m wit’ ye,” replied Bill. "I’ve got to 
git some coin.” 

"I know a crib we kin crack as easy as 
cuttin’ a piece o’ cheese,” continued Jack. 
"It’s in the Cypress Lumber Company’s 
office. Not many cops around there; an’ 
they load her up wit’ coin fer the pay roll 
onct a week.” 

"Let’s crack her to-night,” responded 
Bill. 

"No,” replied his companion, "we got to 
get a coupla fellers to help — lookouts, ye 
know, to pipe the cops. I know two pals 
who’ll do the job — One-Eye Ed an’ Black 
Ben, the coon. I’ll have ’em here to-morrer 
at midnight.” 

After they had discussed their project 
from many standpoints and planned the 
details to their satisfaction. Jack concluded 
by saying, "Be here to-morrer at midnight. 
Bill.” 


94 BIFF McCARTY 

''All right, pal, I'll be here," answered 
Bill, as he took his departure. 

The following night, as the bell in a dis- 
tant church steeple announced the hour of 
twelve, three figures emerged from the 
darkness at different points and met at the 
shack. Three low whistles admitted them. 
Three-Finger Jack, pointing to a sack, said, 
"Fve got everything, boys, a full kit o' tools, 
a dark lantern, an' the soup," referring to 
the nitroglycerin. "Have ye got your 
guns ?" 

"Sure," they answered in unison. 

"Black Ben, you stand watch at the front 
an' Ed at the back," directed Jack, "an' if 
a cop shows up, give three sharp whistles 
so we can make our get-a-way. Bill an' me 
'ell crack the crib, an' we'll meet here after 
the job an' divide the swag, even up." 

"Come on, let's git to work," urged Big 
Bill impatiently and the four crooks stepped 
out of the hut into the blackness of the night. 
The heavens were overcast with scurrying 
clouds which seemed to press close over their 
heads. Not even the gleam of a star pene- 
trated the enveloping darkness. A Stygian 


BIG BILL AT WORK 


95 


pall of blackness swallowed them up as they 
departed, by separate routes, for the scene 
of their proposed crime. Arriving there, 
the negro. Black Ben, was stationed near 
the front door and One-Eye Ed at the rear 
of the building, where Big Bill began opera- 
tions by forcing the back window with a 
‘'jimmy.’' Big Bill stepped through the 
window, followed by Three-Finger Jack, 
both wearing black masks, when they were 
suddenly confronted with a drawn revolver 
in the hands of the night watchman, who 
had been aroused from his doze in a chair 
by the sound of the splintering wood of the 
window frame. 

Big Bill jumped forward like a flash, 
caught the revolver in his left hand and at 
the same instant swung his right fist with 
crushing force on the point of the watch- 
man’s jaw. He crumpled up and dropped 
in a heap, while his revolver fell from his 
inert hand to the floor 

“Don’t try any game like that on me,” 
muttered Bill, whereupon the two men 
gagged him with a towel taken from the wall, 
tied up his head in his own coat, bound his 


96 BIFF McCARTY 

wrists and ankles with a piece of rope and 
threw him in a corner behind the safe. 

“Now, to work,^’ said Bill. 

Jack produced his tools and began boring 
holes around the combination of the huge 
safe which stood at the rear of the office. 
The chilled plates of steel of which the safe 
door was made rendered progress slow and 
difficult, and after some time he was relieved 
in his task by Bill. The perspiration 
streamed from his forehead and face as he 
worked with feverish haste. At last the drill- 
ing was completed. Next they filled the 
holes thus made with nitroglycerin, at- 
tached the fuse, and, to deaden the sound, 
covered the safe with horse blankets taken 
from a nearby stable. Jack inspected the 
work with the eye of an expert and an- 
nounced: “She’s all ready. Bill. Let her 
go.” Bill lighted the fuse and the two men 
retreated to the rear of the office behind the 
safe. In a moment, a sheet of flame, a 
muffled roar, and the deadened sound of a 
heavy falling body told them their work had 
been successful. 

Running to the front of the safe, they 


BIG BILL AT WORK 97 

flashed their dark lanterns and saw the 
huge steel door, ripped from its hinges, 
lying on the pile of blankets on the floor. 
Bill switched his bulks eye to the interior of 
the safe. The expected money was not in 
sight. The steel cash box inside the safe 
was untouched by the explosion! With an 
oath of mingled surprise and disappoint- 
ment, he said, ‘'Quick, Jack, drill the box 
Tore anybody comes.” 

Jack snatched up a drill and again began 
to work vigorously. A police officer may 
have heard the explosion. They must finish 
the job quickly. Great drops of sweat rolled 
down Jack's face as he worked the drill into 
the cold, hard steel. Bill now relieved him 
and his tremendous strength made the drill 
bite the steel. At last the job was complete, 
ready for the explosive. 

“Til put in the soup,” said Jack, reaching 
for the can of nitroglycerin. 

Three sharp whistles were heard from 
the street. 

“The cops,” exclaimed Jack, as he and 
Bill rushed toward the rear window through 
which they jumped, leaving everything 


98 BIFF McCARTY 

behind them. As they darted among piles 
of lumber the figure of One-Eye Ed was 
dimly seen running toward the railroad 
yards. From the street, in front of the 
office, they heard the sounds of swiftly run- 
ning feet. Then three shots rang out on the 
night air, followed by a fall and a smoth- 
ered cry of pain. In another moment the 
sound of footsteps ceased. 

^‘They got Black Ben,’’ panted Three- 
Finger Jack, running neck-and-neck with his 
companion. 

‘They won’t git me,” wheezed Big Bill, as 
he increased his stride. 

On they ran at utmost speed until they 
reached the railroad yards, where they 
slowed down to a walk. 

“Scatter,” said Jack. “I’ll meet ye at my 
shack.” 

Big Bill veered off to the left, dodging 
among and under freight cars and seeking 
the protecting shadows of unlighted byways 
until he finally reached Jack’s hut, where he 
found the owner awaiting him. 

With an oath. Bill dropped into a seat and 
panted, “Gimme a drink.” When he had 


BIG BILL AT WORK 


99 


taken a swig from the bottle, Jack followed 
his example. 

''Curses on my luck,'' shouted Bill, "when 
we almost had our fingers on the coin." 

"Not so loud, ye fool," whispered Jack, 
raising his hand in a gesture of warning. 

Three soft whistles sounded outside. 
Both men grasped their revolvers. Jack 
blew out the candle and called, "Who's 
there?" 

"It's Ed," came the answer. 

Jack removed the bolt from the door and 
admitted the man, who began to speak in 
quick, excited tones. 

"I hid in a box car. After a while — I 
heard cops searchin' the railroad yards. I 
watched my chance — an' sneaked out. 
They're headed this way ! Let's beat 
it." 

Without a moment's delay, the three men 
left the shack, keeping in the shadow of 
alleys until they had gone many blocks. At 
last Bill whispered, "Here it is," and the 
figures of the three men disappeared through 
the window of a woodshed at the rear of a 
vacant house. 


lOO BIFF McCARTY 

''We got to eat, ain’t we?” announced Big 
Bill. 

"That’s easy. Wait a minute,” remarked 
One- Eye Ed, as he crawled out the window. 
In a short time he returned with several 
loaves of bread and three bottles of milk, left 
by an early milkman on the back steps of his 
customers. 

"Now,” said Jack, "let’s eat, an’ snooze 
till mornin’, an’ then we’ll see if our picters 
is in the paper.” 

At two o’clock the next afternoon Ed, the 
least known of the three, was delegated to 
sally forth and buy a newspaper. He soon 
returned and handed it to Jack. On the 
front page was a full account of the bur- 
glary. It stated that the lookout. Black Ben, 
while attempting to escape, had been shot in 
the leg by Officer Hagerty, and that the 
negro had been taken to police headquarters 
and there subjected to the "third degree” for 
ten hours continuously, when, unable to 
withstand the ordeal further, he broke 
down, confessed his part in the burglary 
and gave the names of "Big Bill” Shaugh- 
nessy, "Three-Finger Jack,” and "One-Eye 


BIG BILL AT WORK loi 

Ed’’ as his accomplices. The report con- 
cluded by saying that these men were well 
known to the police and that their capture 
was only a matter of a few hours. 

‘Whew!” whistled Big Bill. “What ye 
think o’ that?” 

“We got to git out o’ here,” answered 
Jack, “an’ that mighty quick. Here’s the 
plan. Lay low till night, then sneak out o’ 
town to Junction Crossin’ an’ ketch a freight 
fer the West.” 

Under the cover of night three figures 
left the woodshed, separated, and made their 
way through alleys and dark, unfrequented 
streets to the edge of the city. Fearful of 
every sound, they shielded their faces from 
the gaze of pedestrians like hunted beasts. 
Many times they darted into the shelter of 
a protecting doorway when a figure was 
seen approaching, while Big Bill crawled 
through the tall weeds of a lot when he saw 
the figure of an officer standing at the other 
corner of the block. 

It was midnight when they met near the 
water tank at Junction Crossing, not far 
from the city limits. They breathed a sigh 


102 BIFF McCARTY 

of relief when they realized that the most 
perilous part of their journey to freedom 
had been accomplished. 

A freight train, coupled to an engine with 
steam up, stood on a sidetrack, headed west. 

''Let’s jump it,” said Bill, and they 
sneaked along the waiting train until they 
came to an empty grain car. Forcing the 
door they entered the car and closed it with- 
out discovery by the train crew. 

"Me nerve is all unstrung,” said Bill, 
throwing himself on the floor, where he was 
soon followed by his companions. The trio 
relapsed into silence. 

Disappointment was pictured on every 
face as they lay in an attitude of utter dejec- 
tion. Their narrow escape from capture 
was an ordeal which shattered their nerves. 

"It’s just my luck,” growled Three-Finger 
Jack to his companions. "I was born un- 
lucky.” 

After a wait of an hour the bumping of 
their car told them that the train had 
started. Soon afterward, they dropped into 
a troubled sleep in which they dreamed of 
police, revolver shots, capture, and prison. 


BIG BILL AT WORK 103 

Bill was dreaming of the shrill yells of a 
mob seeking his blood because of his cruelty 
to Biff and awoke with a start as the shriek- 
ing of the brakes rang in his ears when the 
train was brought to a sudden stop. He 
arose and peered out the car door and found 
that day was just breaking. The train had 
stopped on a siding to permit the fast mail 
to pass. The country was thickly wooded — 
an ideal place to hide. He awakened his 
companions and said, ‘"Come on, let’s beat 
it.” 

They dropped from the car door and 
plunged into the thick brush to the left. For 
a mile they traveled, when they emerged into 
an unfrequented country road, which they 
followed until they saw a barn, and near it 
a henhouse, and farther on the farmer’s 
residence. Approaching them cautiously, 
they discovered that the farmer’s family 
was still asleep. They entered the henhouse 
and each seized two chickens, wrung their 
necks, and dashed into the woods with their 
booty before the cackling of the startled 
roost could awaken their owner. They 
continued their journey over rough, broken 


104 BIFF McCARTY 

country until they came to a river — small, 
clear, and beautiful. Here they changed 
their course upstream until they came upon 
a tramp’s camp, now deserted, in which they 
found a tin bucket, old and battered, and 
three empty tomato cans. Picking them up, 
they continued upstream until they reached 
a large creek, over which they passed on a 
fallen log. Near the stream stood a huge 
sycamore in the bark of which were carved 
the words ‘Tox Creek,” evidently cut with 
a penknife by some farmer lad while hunt- 
ing along the creek. A short distance 
farther up they came to a high rock cliff on 
the water’s edge, in which was seen an open- 
ing twenty feet above the water and diffi- 
cult of access. After much effort, the trio 
climbed the face of the cliff and found the 
• opening was the mouth of a cave which led 
back an unknown distance in the darkness. 

''Here’s where we roost,” announced Big 
Bill. 

They remained in their hiding place all 
day, being plentifully supplied with drinking 
water from the tiny stream which flowed 
through the cave and emptied into the river 


BIG BILL AT WORK 105 

below. At nightfall they descended from 
their hiding place, built a fire, and boiled 
two hens which they devoured for supper — 
their only meal of the day. Then they 
gathered quantities of dry leaves and carried 
them in their coats to the cave to serve as 
a bed. As they lay down to sleep that night 
Bill said, ‘'We’ll stay here a week or two — 
till this thing blows over — an’ then we’ll 
move on to another burg.” 

“I’m not so sure about that,” answered 
One-Eye Ed. “I feel it in my bones that 
we’re a goin’ to have trouble ’fore we git out 
of here.” ' 

“So do I,” Three-Finger Jack chimed in. 


CHAPTER IX 
An Accident 

‘Xook! Bif¥, a signal/’ exclaimed Bing 
Allen, pointing toward Big Chief Mountain. 

Patrol Leader Biff McCarty looked up 
from his work of cleaning camp, and saw a 
flutter on the ridge half a mile away. Tak- 
ing his binoculars, he focused them on the 
point of the hill and detected a boy scout 
making an effort to signal him. 

Grasping a flag he waved back the signal, 
^T am ready.” Calling Brooks to him he 
said, 'Tatty, here’s a pencil. Take down 
the message as I read it.” Then centering 
his vision on the scout standing on the 
brow of the distant hill, he called off the 
letters as they were sent him, by the Morse 
code, "b-u-d-d-yf-e-lTo-v-e-r-t-h-e-c-zl-i-f-f- 
s-e-n-d-h-e-l-p-a-t-o-n-c-e.” Fatty then read 
the message: "Buddy fell over the cliff. 
Send help at once.” 

As soon as the vertical down-and-up 
sweep of the flag indicated that the message 
106 


AN ACCIDENT lo^ 

was ended, Biff called Brooks and Allen, the 
only scouts then in camp, and, seizing two 
staves, they started on a sweeping trot for 
the distant hill. Biff having first assured 
himself that the first-aid package, which 
patrol leaders carry, was in his pocket. 

Arriving at the top of the hill, they found 
Chick Mason, who excitedly explained, 
''Buddy fell off the cliff; he’s down there,” 
pointing with his finger far below them. 

The boys drew close on hands and knees, 
and peered over the edge of the precipice. 
Far down the side of the perpendicular face 
of rock they saw Buddy lodged on the trunk 
of a bush which grew out of a crack in the 
wall. He was suspended in mid air, fully 
twenty feet from the top and the same dis- 
tance from the base of the cliff. He lay 
across the trunk of the bush on his waist, 
while head and arms hung limply on one side, 
balancing his legs which dangled on the op- 
posite side. 

"Buddy,” shouted Biff from above, "O! 
Buddy.” 

There was no response from the uncon- 
scious boy. 


io8 BIFF McCARTY 

“What shall we do?'' questioned Chick, 
excitedly. 

“I wish we had a rope," was Biff's reply. 

The boys looked at each other blankly. 

“I'll run to camp and get one," volun- 
teered Fatty. 

“It would be too late. He'll roll off there 
just as soon as he comes to. We've got to 
reach him mighty quick," responded Biff. 
His eyes wandered to the woods back of 
them, and he suddenly exclaimed: “Stay 
here a minute, fellows. I'll be right back," 
and dashed into the woods. He soon re- 
turned dragging after him a long grape 
vine, an inch or more thick at the base and 
divided at the top into two slender, flexible 
branches which they quickly stripped of 
their leaves. 

Biff swung the end of the vine over the 
edge, and looking down, he called back with 
a tone of satisfaction, “It's long enough." 

He slipped out of his coat as he contin- 
ued, “Here, fellows, you hold the butt end — 
tug o' war like — and I'll go down after him. 
When I give the signal, you haul up." 

Brooks, Allen, and Mason took their 


AN ACCIDENT 109 

places seated on the ground in tandem and 
dug a firm footing with their heels. Biff 
grasped the vine with both hands, as the 
boys braced themselves, and sang out, ‘'All 
ready, boys,’’ and swung out over the edge 
of the cliff. His heavy weight strained their 
muscles as their backs stiffened to withstand 
the shock. He got over safely. The tension 
on the vine was steadier now. Soon they 
felt the irregular jerks of the vine as the 
boy descended it. After a short time the 
jerking was succeeded by the steady pull of 
a dead weight, while they continued to grasp 
the vine with taut fingers. 

Biff had now reached the bush across 
which the boy lay. A glance told him that 
it would not support the weight of two. He 
looked about him and discovered a ledge, 
but it was too narrow and sloping to afford 
a footing. At his left he found a crack in 
the wall into which he worked his fingers — 
then realized that he could not rescue the 
boy from this position. Again grasping the 
vine, he descended a few feet, searching 
the face of the precipice with his toes for a 
foothold, but without success. He looked 


no BIFF McCARTY 

down — and the sheer drop made him dizzy. 
Working his way to the right, at the end 
of the swinging pendulum, his toe slipped 
into a crevice three feet below the bush and 
in another moment both feet had found a 
secure hold. 

Still grasping the vine rope, he edged 
himself to the right until he was by Buddy’s 
side. Bracing himself against the bush, he 
tied the pliant ends of the vine under the 
boy’s arms with the knot in front, which, 
to make doubly safe, he strengthened with 
his twisted handkerchief. Holding the 
trunk of the bush under his right arm, he 
lifted the unconscious boy with the other 
and shouted upward: '‘All right. Haul 
away !” 

The vine began to tighten, and in a 
moment the limp body was being drawn 
slowly upward — suspended between earth 
and sky. 

Biff watched the ascent with anxious 
eyes. 'T hope the vine don’t break,” he 
heard himself saying half aloud. "It would 
'be all over, if the knot should give way.” 

Slowly the body ascended, inch by inch. 


AN ACCIDENT 

until at last Buddy’s head and shoulders 
appeared above the edge of the cliff. The 
keen eyes of Fatty Brooks were the first to 
notice the break in the vine where it had 
been tied about the boy! His heart stood 
still. Another pound would part the vine 
and send the boy crashing to his death! 

‘'Stop pullin’/' he ordered his companions 
at his back. “Can you two hold it by your- 
selves ?” 

“We’ll try,” answered Allen and Mason, 
as they braced themselves for the strain. 

Fatty released his hold, leaned forward 
and grasped the boy by the wrist, and, with 
a pull all together, they dragged him up to 
safety. He removed the vine and leaning 
over the edge of the cliff shouted below, “All 
right up here.” 

“Fm ready. Lower away,” returned Biff. 

The boys again lowered the vine, and 
grasping it in a viselike grip. Fatty shouted, 
“All ready,” and Biff, mounting the vine 
hand over hand, soon came up over the edge 
of the precipice and stood on solid ground. 

Biff quickly unbuttoned Buddy’s coat and 
loosened his shirt about the throat. Then 


112 BIFF McCARTY 

opening his first-aid package, he produced 
a tiny vial filled with liquid ammonia, and 
inclosed in a cloth receptacle. Squeezing 
this between his fingers, he crushed the 
fragile glass, liberating the ammonia, which 
instantly changed into vapor. He held it 
under the nose of the unconscious Buddy; 
the powerful stimulant soon began its work, 
and in a moment Buddy weakly opened his 
eyes and a sickly smile played over his face 
as he said, ‘‘Fm all right, fellers; lemme 
stand up.’’ 

He attempted to stand, but was not equal 
to the task, and Biff directed, ‘Tie down 
here a minute. Buddy; we will carry you to 
camp. You’ll be all right — as soon as we 
get you back.” 

‘‘Here, Fatty,” said Biff, ‘"you and 
Mason take off your coats. Turn the sleeves 
wrong side out. Put the tails together and 
these two staves through the sleeves.” 

These directions were promptly followed. 

‘‘Now button the coats down the front; 
turn the litter over. See! We have a fine 
stretcher. Now we’ll have Buddy back to 
camp in no time.” 


AN ACCIDENT 

They picked up the pale-faced Buddy and 
laid him on the stretcher. Biff placed his 
coat under Buddy’s head as a pillow. Mason 
and Fatty picked up the litter and headed 
for camp, with Biff walking at the side of 
the litter and gazing anxiously at Buddy’s 
face which was very white. 

It was a long march back to camp and 
their burden was heavy. Biff and Allen 
relieved their companions, and finally camp 
was reached. 

Buddy was placed in bed in the Scout 
Master’s tent, to await his return from the 
hike, where he had gone in command of two 
patrols. 

'‘How do you feel. Buddy?” inquired 
Biff. 

'T’m better now,” he replied, "but I cer- 
tainly got an awful bump. I was leaning 
over the edge of the cliff*, picking berries. 
Chick told me to come away or I would get 
hurt, but I wanted the berries. The edge 
crumbled away and, before I knew it, I was 
turning a somersault in the air. Then, 
something hit me in the chest. The next 
thing I knew I opened my eyes and saw 


BIFF McCARTY 


1 14 

Biff bending over me. Did I break my 
neck?'^ 

"'No/’ answered Biff. "You’re all right. 
You’re too tough to kill.” 

They gave him a cup of strong tea. The 
stimulant brought color to his face and bril- 
liancy to his eyes. 

"Now, Chick,” said Biff, addressing 
Mason, "as a punishment for you permitting 
Buddy to get hurt, I am going to appoint 
you his nurse, and you will have to stay with 
him the rest of the afternoon till the Scout 
Master returns.” 

Buddy grinned. Mason answered, 
"That’s less punishment than I expected. 
Hey, Buddy, what do you want me to do for 
you ?” 

"You will have to put on an apron and a 
lace cap,” Fatty Brooks broke in, "and walk 
around softly and feed him medicine every 
half hour from a spoon, and take orders 
from "Doctor’ McCarty.” 

"Ah! quit your kidding. Fatty,” retorted 
Biff. "I may be a doctor some day, and the 
first thing I’ll do will be to amputate your 
head, and then you won’t talk so much.” 


AN ACCIDENT 


115 

Buddy recognized this facetiousness by a 
grin and the reply: ‘T don't need a nurse. 
I'm all right; I want to get out of here." 

''Get out of here, nothing," said Biff. 
"I'm in command of this camp, and you have 
got to obey orders or take the consequences. 
You will stay right here until Mr. Hudson 
returns." 

At this point a shout from Fatty Brooks 
outside announced that he saw the Eagle 
and Moose patrols returning to camp with 
the Scout Master bringing up the rear. 

"Come on, Fatty and Bing," said Biff, 
addressing the cook detail, "get busy; we 
must get supper on the table for this 
bunch of hungry wolves swooping down 
on us.'’ 

A hunter's stew, consisting of bits of meat 
mixed with potatoes, carrots, parsnips, 
turnips, and a sprinkling of onion, which 
had been simmering over the camp fire for 
an hour, gave forth a savory smell, which 
whetted the appetites of the ravenous patrols 
now coming into camp. 

"Gee," said Happy Holmes, "that stuff 
smells almost good enough to eat." 


ii6 BIFF McCARTY 

‘If you don’t like it,” retorted Biff, “you 
don’t have to eat it.” 

“I arn hungry enough to eat a board,” 
returned Happy. “It’s no compliment to 
your cooking that I eat it, it’s just ’cause I’m 
as hungry as a hyena. I’d like to get three 
square meals a day in this camp.” 

“You do,” asserted Biff. 

“Yes,” retorted Happy, “we get oat meal, 
corn meal, and plain meal.” 

The clear sharp tones of the supper bugle 
started every scout into action. A rush was 
made for the big spring near by, and arms 
and faces were plunged into the cooling 
water and rubbed vigorously with much 
sputtering, interspersed with shouts and 
laughter. Stray locks of hair were plastered 
into place, and the troop sat down to supper, 
with Buddy occupying the seat of honor at 
the right of the Scout Master. 

Their substantial meal would do credit 
to any city dining room, and it seemed like 
ambrosia to these hungry scouts, who ate 
with the keen appetite of youth, whetted by 
the physical exercise of a vigorous day. At 
last, the “cook detail” began to grumble at 


AN ACCIDENT 

the insatiable appetites of their comrades. 
Biff voiced his apparent disapproval by re- 
marking, ‘'Say! are you fellers hollow all 
the way down to your feet? Leave enough 
for the three of us on the cook detail.’^ 

“Aw ! go cook some more for yourselves,” 
retorted Curly Coover; “that’s what you 
are here for.” 

Happy Holmes broke up the colloquy 
with, “Say! fellows, last week I bought ten 
cents’ worth of wire nails. What do you 
suppose I bought them for?” 

“I don’t know,” answered Curly Coover. 
“What did you buy them for?” 

“For ten cents,” replied Happy. 

A loud chorus of laughter greeted this 
sally, and Curly retorted, “Happy, we’ll duck 
you in the river for that one,” while the 
irrepressible Happy grinned in the con- 
sciousness that he was the wit of the troop. 

Troop No. 20 was composed of boys 
from twelve to seventeen years of age, 
divided into four patrols of eight scouts 
each, with an Adjutant and a Quartermaster 
as the first and second boy-officers of the 
troop. Each patrol was officered by a Patrol 


ii8 BIFF McCARTY 

Leader, with a Corporal second in com- 
mand. The troop was now on its annual two- 
weeks camp in the great woods, far removed 
from the city. The site selected for the 
camp was near the foot of a hill from which 
flowed a spring of clear, cold water, which 
sparkled in the sun like drops of crystal as 
it ran down a meadow until it mingled its 
waters with Fox Creek, which in turn, 
emptied into the Meramec River. 

Stretching away to the north, east, and 
west were high rolling hills covered with 
primeval forest trees, which pointed their 
lofty heads to the clouds and furnished 
homes for thousands of wild birds. Here 
were seen and heard the screech owl, crow, 
buzzard, hawk, eagle, and many other vari- 
eties of the feathered tribe. And O, what 
fishing there was in the river ! Bass, catfish, 
and sun perch, large enough to give you a 
thrill when you hooked one and wondered 
whether you would be lucky or skillful 
enough to land it. There was larger game 
too. Coon, possum, bear, deer, wildcats, 
wolves, and foxes had been caught in the 
rough, broken country which made up this 


AN ACCIDENT 

wilderness. Here, in this primitive spot, 
under the shadow of the big hill christened 
‘'Old Chief Mountain’’ by the boys, was lo- 
cated the camp. 

It was in such surroundings as these that 
the troop passed two weeks in work and 
play, with every waking hour filled to the 
brim with ceaseless activity until “taps” 
sounded from the bugle at night. And it 
was here that Biff was destined to encounter 
the most thrilling as well as the most unex- 
pected experience of his life. 


CHAPTER X 
The Competitive Hike 

Day dawned bright and clear, and with 
the first peep of the sun over the eastern 
hills reveille was sounded, bringing back to 
camp all the young tourists who had jour- 
neyed to slumberland. 

The event of the day was a competitive 
hike between the four patrols in charge of 
their respective Patrol Leaders. Each 
patrol was to take a three-mile hike and 
return, along different routes, and bring 
back with them, correctly classified and de- 
scribed, the leaves and fruit of as many 
varieties of forest trees as they found on 
their way. The patrol which returned the 
largest number of specimens which were 
correctly named would be awarded a prize. 

The Scout Master announced that he 
would offer a first-aid kit as a prize to the 
winning patrol, to be placed in the custody 
of the Patrol Leader. All were instructed 
to return to camp before noon. 

120 


THE COMPETITIVE HIKE 121 

The Meadow Larks headed off to the 
northwest along the Big Bottom road which 
followed Fox Creek up stream. The Moose 
took the Bluff road bordering the creek run- 
ning south, which led them down to the 
river. The Tigers took a trail stretching 
toward the southwest over a wild, broken 
country, while the Eagles went due west. 
All these routes were lined with a great 
variety of forest trees. 

Many of the scouts slung over their 
shoulders canteens filled with clear, cold 
water from the big spring at camp, while 
others begged sandwiches and bread, butter 
and jam from Caesar and placed them in 
their knapsacks to avert the awful pangs of 
hunger which assailed them at periodic 
intervals of great frequency. 

Leaving camp in columns of two, the 
Moose headed south along a private road, 
thence down under the railroad bridge 
spanning Fox Creek, around Big Chief 
Mountain and thence into the main Bluff 
road stretching away in the direction of the 
river. The boys drank in great draughts 
of the cool fragrant morning air as they 


122 BIFF McCARTY 

marched along. The primitive surroundings 
were in harmony with their primitive na- 
tures, which they voiced in loud yells of de- 
light. The sheer joy of living manifested 
itself in shouts, whoops, and the bantering 
of comrades. 

They encountered many varieties of trees, 
among them some straggling groups of an 
evergreen character, and here a discussion 
arose. Fatty Brooks declared they were 
pine trees; Slim Anderson volunteered the 
opinion that they were fir trees; Heine 
Meyers expressed his belief that they should 
be called evergreen, while Happy Holmes 
said he thought they were ^'Christmas trees.’’ 

The road at this point forded Fox Creek, 
and it was necessary for the boys to strip off 
their shoes and stockings to wade across the 
stream. Fatty Brooks, who had bared his 
legs, said to Dicky Byrd, just commencing 
to unlace his shoes, ''Hey ! Dicky, if you will 
carry my shoes and stockings, I will carry 
you across on my back, and you won’t have 
to undress.” 

"You’re on,” Dicky promptly accepted, 
and climbed on the back of the big husky 


THE COMPETITIVE HIKE 123 


lad, who laughingly flung back at him, “Em 
not on, it is you who are on,'' and plunged 
into the stream knee deep. The stones and 
gravel lining the bottom of the stream hurt 
his feet and made him step gingerly, feeling 
his way with care. 

''Hey! Fatty," shouted Dicky, "don't you 
stumble and let me fall." 

"You sit steady and quit wiggling about 
so much," responded Fatty. 

With much slipping, sliding and stum- 
bling Fatty reached the center of the stream. 
Here he lost his balance on a slippery rock 
and the strong current threw him and Dicky 
headlong into the stream, from which they 
both soon emerged spouting water like por- 
poises. 

Other scouts were wading the stream with 
small companions on their backs, but with 
better success. At last the entire patrol was 
across in safety. In a pool of shallow water 
connecting with the creek. Stuffy Wyman 
discovered a hard-shell snapping turtle, 
which he immediately captured and then 
laid on its back, where it wildly waved its 
legs in a vain effort to turn over and 


124 BIFF McCARTY 

snapped viciously at sticks poked near its 
jaws. ‘They say/' said Dicky, gravely, 
“that if he snapped your finger in his jaw, he 
wouldn't turn loose till the sun went down 
or till it thundered." This piece of zoolog- 
ical misinformation was received with grav- 
ity until Scotty said : “Pshaw ! fellows, there's 
nothing in that. He would turn loose if you 
hit him over the head with a club." 

“Just you try it and see," urged Dicky. 

After the curiosity of the boys had been 
gratified by an inspection of the turtle, it 
was turned over, whereupon it proceeded at 
top speed to seek the safety of the deep 
waters of the creek. 

Farther on, a giant sycamore spread its 
branches far and wide, and clinging to its 
trunk was a vine. It adhered closely to the 
tree, twining its clinging tendrils in and 
around the bark and branches of the tree 
until it was lost to view among the leaves. 

“Keep away from that tree," commanded 
Curly. “That is a poison ivy." 

The boys halted, while Curly continued, 
“If you touch that, your hands and face will 
swell up and break out." 


THE COMPETITIVE HIKE 125 

‘'We don’t want to get poisoned, but we 
want a specimen of it,” argued Scotty Mc- 
Gregor. “This might be the very specimen 
that would win us the prize.” 

“You fellows stand back,” said Slim An- 
derson. “Poison ivy don’t poison me ; I have 
handled it before. An old hunter once told 
me that when you touched poison ivy you 
should immediately rub your hands clean on 
the grass, and then wash them with water, 
and you won’t get poisoned.” 

“We don’t want to take any chances,” cau- 
tioned Curly Coover. 

“I will tell you how we’ll do it,” shouted 
Scotty ; “I’ll get a green stick, then cut it half- 
way through the middle, bend it over like a 
hinge, and shave the inside of it flat with 
my knife, and that will make a dandy pair 
of tongs.” 

Suiting the action to the word, he grasped 
a leaf with his tongs, severed the stem with 
his knife, and placed it in an envelope 
on which were written the words, “Poison 
Ivy.” 

Stuffy Wyman was proceeding in advance 
of the patrol when he encountered a huge 


126 BIFF McCARTY 

black snake sunning itself in the road almost 
at his feet. With a cry of alarm he jumped 
backward and, seizing a stone lying near 
by, he quickly threw it at the reptile with all 
his strength. A lucky throw landed squarely 
on the head of the snake which writhed and 
coiled about itself in death agony. The 
patrol hastily formed a circle about the 
snake, when Slim Anderson delivered a 
second blow on its head with a stick, and the 
snake quivered and lay still. Stuffy now 
took a green limb and split its end with his 
hunting knife, making a fork, into which he 
worked the body of the snake and held it up 
for inspection. It measured five feet eight 
inches from its head to the tip of its tail. 

^Tt looks terribly poisonous,’’ remarked 
Piggie Bacon. 

"T am sure it would kill you if it bit you,” 
said Boysey LeRoy. 

''Let’s take a good look at its head,” re- 
quested Curly. "No,” he resumed, "it’s not 
poisonous. You know, poisonous snakes 
usually have blunt, triangular heads, and his 
head is a long oval. He’ll make good hog 
feed.” 


THE COMPETITIVE HIKE 127 

‘'Will hogs really eat it?’' questioned 
Piggie Bacon. 

Happy Holmes snickered, “You ought to 
know, Piggie." 

“That will be about all for you. Happy," 
warned the Patrol Leader; “another break 
like that and I’ll send you back to camp." 

“I didn’t mean nothin',’' explained Happy. 

“No, he didn’t," said Piggie, hastening to 
the defense of his friend. 

“Well ! forget it," answered Scotty. 

Stuffy Wyman relieved the situation by 
saying, “Let’s carry the snake down the 
road, and if we find any hogs we can try it 
on them." Suitable to this suggestion, he 
grasped the stick holding the body of the 
snake, and bearing it aloft the scouts again 
resumed their hike. 

A downward turn in the road brought 
them into the little valley through which the 
clear river, sparkling in the rays of the sun, 
ran with winding course off in the distance 
where it was lost among the surrounding 
hills. On the lower side of the road was a ^ 
farm, and as they approached the farmhouse 
Stuffy Wyman shouted: “There’s a lot down 


128 BIFF McCARTY 

there with a drove of hogs in it. Here’s 
where we feed them their dinner,” waving 
the snake carried on the end of the stick. 
Approaching the lot, he threw the snake 
among them and the frightened hogs scam- 
pered away in every direction. 

''I told you,” said Boysey LeRoy, ‘'that 
hogs wouldn’t eat snakes.” 

The inquisitive animals now began to 
return to investigate the object which had 
so rudely disturbed their morning sleep and 
cautiously approached, with many grunts 
and squeals, until the bravest of the drove 
grabbed the snake in his teeth and began to 
eat it greedily. In a moment the entire 
drove surrounded him, eager for a mouthful 
of this dainty morsel, until the last vestige of 
the snake had disappeared down the hungry 
throats of the animals. 

‘T told you,” said Happy Holmes, as they 
resumed their onward march, “they would 
make hogs of themselves.” 

In a few minutes their objective point, the 
river, was reached. The boys lay down on 
their backs on the grassy slope forming the 
river bank, and looked up at the clear, azure- 


THE COMPETITIVE HIKE 129 

tinted sky through the overhanging branches 
of the many trees clustered along the course 
of the river. 

The insatiable hunger of the boys began to 
assert itself, and sandwiches were produced 
from the depths of yawning knapsacks and 
divided among the patrol, which they ate 
voraciously, followed by copious draughts of 
spring water from their canteens. 

After resting a while a discussion arose as 
to the true direction of the stream at this 
point. 

Quartermaster Coover said, ‘We will 
soon find out by consulting my compass, but 
before doing that, let’s try to tell the direc- 
tion by our watches.” 

The patrol now produced their watches 
which showed the hour to be 10:15 a. m. 

“Now point the hour hand of your 
watches at the sun, and half way between 
the hour hand and the XII on the dial of 
your watch is due south. Knowing south, 
the opposite direction is north.” 

They then drew on the ground with a 
sharp stick the four cardinal points of the 
compass — north, south, east, and west — and 


130 BIFF McCARTY 

by dividing the right angles thus produced 
they obtained northeast, southeast, south- 
west, and northwest. 

Comparing this ground compass to the 
course of the stream at this point, they de- 
clared that the stream was running almost 
due southeast. Curly now produced his 
compass and placing it on the ground over 
the compass lines drawn there, found they 
were correct. 

''Now, fellows, it is time to hike back to 
camp,’’ commanded Scotty McGregor. 

The boys fell into line and swung up the 
road on their return journey, during which 
a sharp lookout was kept for any new trees 
which might have been overlooked on the 
going hike. They soon arrived at camp and 
found that the Eagle Patrol had thirty-five 
specimens correctly described. 

The Meadow Larks had thirty-two, the 
Moose thirty-six, and the Tigers thirty-seven 
specimens. 

The Scout Master announced the result of 
the examination by awarding first prize to 
the Tigers and handed Biflf McCarty the 
first-aid outfit. 


THE COMPETITIVE HIKE 131 

He continued: ‘"The Tiger Patrol has 
fairly won this prize after a hot contest with 
the Eagles, the Moose, and the Meadow 
Larks. I congratulate the winners, as well 
as the losers, for you have all done excellent 
work. I hope you will never have occasion 
to use this kit, but in conformity with the 
scout motto, 'Be Prepared,' we should al- 
ways be ready for emergencies whenever 
they occur. I congratulate you heartily." 

Bunny Brown, Patrol Leader of the 
Eagles, raised his hat high over his head 
and shouted, "Three cheers for the Tigers!" 

"Now, one more for Biff McCarty!" 
shouted several scouts. 

When this had been given, the cook detail 
for the day rushed to the spring to wash 
hands and faces, and then worked vigor- 
ously assisting Caesar, the colored cook, in 
the preparation of the midday meal, while 
the other boys lay about on the ground in 
groups, discussing the events of the morning 
and inspecting the first-aid kit won by the 
Tigers. 

Biff suddenly exclaimed, "Pve lost my 
ax," with a glance at his belt where it usu- 


132 BIFF McCARTY 

ally hung. 'T\l run back and find it/' he 
added as he darted away through the woods 
from which he had recently come- Picking 
up the trail by which the Tigers had returned 
to camp, he continued uphill and down for 
more than half an hour, scrutinizing every 
foot of the ground. He had reached the 
summit of a high ridge covered with trees 
pointing their heads tall and straight toward 
the heavens. He was startled by a deep, 
grufif voice behind him which shouted, ‘'Hold 
on, there!" 

He turned his head and saw Big Bill step- 
ping out from behind a large tree. He 
looked down the barrel of Big Bill's revolver 
which was pointed full in his face. The 
gleam of cold steel made him shiver, and 
the look of hatred in Bill's eyes, as he sighted 
the revolver, made Biff quail with fear. 

"Throw up yer hands," commanded Big 
Bill. 

The boy's hands instantly shot above his 
head. As Big Bill approached him, still 
covering him with the revolver. Biff saw two 
other rough-looking men closing in on him 
from right and left. 


CHAPTER XI 

In the Hands of the Enemy 

Big BilCs clothing was dirty and torn. 
His face was covered with a shaggy growth 
of beard which gave him an unfamiliar and 
forbidding look. A jagged, red scar ran 
diagonally across his forehead above his left 
eye. As the three men surrounded the boy, 
Bill lowered his weapon and sneered, ‘'Ho! 
Ho ! my purty boy, I didn’t expect to see you 
here.” 

“Neither did I you,” returned Biff. 

Big Bill stepped closer and with a quick 
lunge he shot his fist straight at the boy’s 
face. Biff ducked, but not in time to escape 
entirely the force of the glancing blow which 
struck him over the temple and sent him 
sprawling on his back among the bushes. 

“Don’t kill him,” shouted Three-Finger 
Jack, as he lifted the boy to his feet and 
added, “Mebbe we can use him. Watcha 
doin’ out here, kid?” 

133 


134 BIFF McCARTY 

“Fm with my troop about a mile over 
there, by the big spring,’’ replied the boy, 
pointing in the direction of camp. 

‘"What’s yer captain’s name?” he queried. 

“Hudson,” answered Biff. 

“I’ve got it,” exclaimed Three-Finger 
Jack. “Let’s hold him an’ make ’em cough 
up the coin.” 

“The surest thing ye know,” assented Big 
Bill. “Ye got more brains than any gentul- 
mun I know. Let’s tell ’em they got to pay 
us a thousan’ dollars or we’ll croak the kid. 
I’d like to do it anyway, only I need the 
money,” he added. 

“They wouldn’t have a thousan’ with 
’em in camp, so we’ll strike ’em for a hun- 
nerd. We gotta hav^ coin fer grub. If 
we swipe any more chickens around here 
the farmers’ll camp on our trail till we get 
pinched.” 

“How we goin’ to git it?” inquired Bill. 

“Easy,” replied the other. “We’ll 'v^rite 
a letter to Hudson telling him we’ll croak the 
kid if he don’t leave a hunnerd dollars on the 
log across the creek near the river to-night. 
Who’s got some paper?” 


IN HANDS OF ENEMY 135 

No one responded. The edge of the note- 
book which Biff had used on the morning 
hike protruded from his coat pocket. 

‘‘Here’s the thing,” exclaimed Jack, re- 
moving the book and tearing out a blank 
page. 

“You write it,” suggested Bill. “I can 
write figgers, but I can’t write writin’ well.” 

Jack thereupon took a pencil and after 
much effort wrote the following letter, 
deer captin Hudson 

we have got biff macarty and we’ll croak him if 
you dont leeve i hunnerd dollers on the log acros 
the crick neer the rivver tonite. dont try to watch 
us or we’ll croak you, if you dont leeve the munny, 
we will cut off bife thum and leeve it on the log to 
show you we meen bisnes if the munny aint there 
the 2d nite we will croak biff we are desperit. 

yours truly, 

three honist men. 

“It’s done,” said Jack, holding up the 
letter with a look of pride and satisfaction. 

“What if Hudson thinks we ain’t got Biff 
an’ are puttin’ up a job on him?” pondered 
Bill, as he weighed the impression it would 
make on Mr. Hudson’s mind. 

“We can fix that,” answered Jack. “Here, 
Biff, you write on the bottom o’ the letter 


BIFF McCARTY 


136 

fer him to do what we want, an’ sign your 
name.” 

“I won’t do it,” answered the boy, pluckily. 
ye won’t, won’t ye? Well, ye’ve got 
to. Now write what he tells ye,” com- 
manded Big Bill as he placed the point of 
his revolver against Biff’s temple. 

The boy took the pencil and with trem- 
bling fingers wrote at the bottom of the 
letter : 

Mr. Hudson: 

Please do what they tell you. 

Biff McCarty. 

‘T’ll sneak into camp to-night when they’re 
all asleep and leave the letter,” chuckled Big 
Bill, beaming with the thought that the 
money would soon be in his fingers. 

‘'Now read it,” said Bill. 

The men gathered close over Jack’s 
shoulder as he began to read the letter 
aloud — all their interest centered on the 
missive by which they expected to obtain the 
money for the boy’s ransom. 

Biff glanced furtively about him, his heart 
beating fast. Stepping quietly and cau- 
tiously behind them, while their attention 


IN HANDS OF ENEMY 137 

was centered on the letter, he suddenly 
bounded away through the woods as fast 
as his swift legs would carry him. At the 
sound of cracking twigs under his feet, the 
men looked up and caught a glimpse of a 
fleeting figure darting away among the 
trees. 

‘'Ketch him,” screamed Big Bill, and the 
trio broke into a run in pursuit of the boy. 
On they sped, guided by the sound of crash- 
ing bushes ahead of them, and now and then 
a fleeting sight of the boy as he raced 
through a clearer place in the forest. 

Biff had been running along the top of the 
high ridge when he thought to throw his 
pursuers off his track by turning at right 
angles into a deep ravine. He plunged down 
the steep hill, slipping, sliding, and fighting 
his way through brush and briers, until at 
last he reached the bottom. Here he forced 
his way along the ravine through a tangled 
thicket choked with vines, bushes, and fallen 
trees. The effort to make progress under 
such difficulties was sapping his strength. 
Still onward he plunged, stumbling over 
bowlders and fallen logs and struggling 


BIFF McCARTY 


through briers and branches which caught 
his hands and clothes and held him back. 
The terrific pace was telling on him. His 
breath came in gasps as he pressed onward. 
As he stopped a moment to catch his breath, 
he listened and the crash of bushes from be- 
hind warned him that his pursuers were 
gaining on him. He glanced wildly about 
for a way to escape. He decided to remount 
the high ridge and up its steep side he began 
to scramble. His footing on some disinte- 
grated shale gave way and he fell and rolled 
to a spot nearly ten feet below. As he picked 
himself up to start again on his climb, a 
sharp pain like the thrust of a knife shot 
through his right ankle, which had been 
turned by his fall. From now on, he crawled 
upward on his hands and knees, making slow 
progress toward the summit. Grasping 
bushes and points of projecting rocks, he 
pulled himself, inch by inch and foot by foot, 
up the steep side of the hill with cut and 
bleeding hands. A loose rock accidentally 
dislodged by him went crashing down to 
the bottom. He lay still — panting for breath. 
Far below, he caught a glimpse of the men 


IN HANDS OF ENEMY 139 

beginning their ascent. His heart sank 
within him, but steeling his muscles with his 
indomitable will he resumed his upward 
journey. His knees were bleeding from con- 
tact with the sharp rocks and his uniform 
was in shreds. Still upward he mounted 
until the summit appeared just over his head. 
With a mighty effort he dragged himself to 
the top, where he lay gasping for breath. 
He slowly rose to his feet and hobbled along 
the ridge in the direction of camp. The in- 
tense pain in his ankle prevented him from 
making rapid progress. He stopped a mo- 
ment to rest his injured limb and as he did 
so, the sound of pursuit grew closer. He 
knew that his capture was a matter of 
only a few minutes. He looked about him, 
like a hunted animal, for some chance to 
escape. He was standing under a giant 
oak whose top reached far above the sur- 
rounding trees. He hobbled around it and 
discovered a hollow extending for fifteen feet 
above the ground, in a long vertical opening 
through which he might squeeze. He de- 
cided to hide himself here, but on second 
thought he realized that it would be the very 


140 BIFF McCARTY 

place they would look for him. He said half 
aloud, 'Til try to climb to the top and hide 
there.’’ 

Suiting the action to the word, he began 
the ascent by bracing his hands and knees 
between the sides of the opening and slowly 
and laboriously ascended until he reached 
the lowest limb, which he grasped and drew 
himself upon. Pausing a moment for breath, 
he again mounted from limb to limb until 
the foliage screened him from view below. 
Here he rested astride a limb, grasping 
the trunk of the tree for support. His 
ear caught the sound of running feet be- 
low him. 

‘‘He ain’t far away,” he heard Big Bill 
pant. 

“No, I seen him runnin’ under this big 
tree,” volunteered One-Eye Ed. 

The trio stopped, listened, and looked 
about them. Big Bill’s eye rested on the 
hollow of the tree. He dashed toward it and 
peered in, but turned away with a look of 
disappointment as he growled, “He’s a slip- 
pery eel, he is.” 

“Mebbe he climbed a tree!” exclaimed 


IN HANDS OF ENEMY 141 

Three-Finger Jack, with a sudden inspira- 
tion. 

''Yes, he mfght. Everybody look,’’ 
directed Big Bill, and the three men began to 
search the treetops with their eyes. 

Bill’s heart stopped beating. He held his 
breath and crouched close to the trunk at 
the top of the tree where he was sitting. He 
could hear the footsteps of the men as they 
walked around the tree, and he realized that 
three pairs of eyes were trying to spy out 
his hiding place. The suspense was terrible. 
He felt faint and sick. 

"I know he must be up there,” he heard 
One-Eye Ed say, " ’cause I didn’t see him go 
no furder.” 

Suddenly he heard the voice of Three- 
Einger Jack exclaim: "There he is! I see 
him !” 

"Where?” shouted Big Bill. 

"Right there,” replied Jack, pointing his 
finger through a break in the foliage to the 
spot where Biff sat. 

Big Bill flashed his gun, and aiming it at 
the boy, fired instantly. 

The bullet embedded itself in the tree 


142 BIFF McCARTY 

trunk not six inches from the boy's head. 
Bill's overeagerness resulted in the bad 
marksmanship which saved Biff's life. 

'‘Hold on there," yelled Jack, grabbing 
Bill's wrist, as he was taking aim a second 
time. "Don't croak the kid now. We need 
him to get the coin." 

"You're right," returned Bill, regretfully. 
"I forgot." 

At the crack of the gun. Biff started from 
his perch and began to mount still higher, 
until he had reached the topmost part of the 
tree capable of supporting his weight. The 
slender limbs here swayed perilously under 
him. He braced himself in a fork made by 
two limbs and waited, listening intently for 
any sounds from below. Soon he heard 
Jack's voice floating up from the base of the 
tree, "We'll wait here. He's got to come 
down some time." 

"Sure, he will," assented the other two. 
"We'll git him." 

Biff's courage failed him as he realized 
his inability to remain long in his present 
position. For the first time he noticed that 
his hands were covered with clotted, dried 


IN HANDS OF ENEMY 143 

blood from the wounds made by rocks and 
briers. His ankle was swollen to nearly 
twice its normal size and throbbed violently 
with every pulsation of his heart. He 
muttered, '‘It’s no use. I’ve got to go 
down.” 

He judged it to be nearly one o’clock. He 
was not hungry, but a terrible thirst raged 
within him. From his high position he swept 
the horizon with his eye. Far off to the 
south he saw the beautiful waters of the 
Meramec sparkling with the silver of sun- 
light. 

"O, how I would like to have a drink of 
that water!” he thought. The peace of a 
glorious summer day was in the air, while 
danger and death hovered near him. He 
turned his head and through a break in the 
distant trees he clearly saw the line of tents 
of his camp on the side of a far-off hill. 

A sudden inspiration seized him. He 
pulled his hunting knife from his pocket and 
began to cut the leaves and branches about 
him until the top of the tree near his seat was 
quite bare. Next he cut a small straight 
branch, three feet long, to which he tied his 


144 ^ biff McCARTY 

handkerchief — like a flag. He began to 
wave the flag slowly back and forth, from 
one side of his head to the other, while he 
kept his eyes directed toward the tents. He 
continued to wave until his arms ached, but 
there was no response from camp. 

The troop had finished dinner and were 
lolling about camp resting from their vigor- 
ous hike of the morning. Mr. Hudson was 
in his tent busy with troop records. Bunny 
Brown was snap-shotting various groups as 
they stood or lay about in picturesque atti- 
tudes. Curly Coover was trying out his new 
pair of field glasses. He placed them to his 
eyes and swept the horizon to the east and 
south. Deacon Parsons, standing beside 
him, was looking to the southwest when he 
said, ''O, Curly, look at the white bird flying 
around the top of that tall tree on the ridge 
over there,'’ indicating the direction with 
his finger. 

Curly focused his glasses on the spot indi- 
cated and exclaimed: ‘Tt's not a bird, it's a 
flag. Somebody is trying to signal us." 

‘‘Here's my flag," said Deacon, seizing it 


IN HANDS OF ENEMY 145 

from a rustic table where it lay. 'Til wave 
the 'Ready’ signal and see if he answers.” 

As Deacon waved the flag, Curly was as- 
tonished to see through his lenses the flag in 
the tree repeat the signal and then it began 
to send this message, which Curly called off 
as Deacon wrote it down: "Robbers have 
got me treed send help quick biff.” 

This astounding message sent a shock 
throughout the camp. It flew from lip to 
lip. Consternation reigned among the boys. 
Fuzzy remarked, "There’s nothing to it — 
he’s playing a joke on you.” 

"No,” replied Curly, "Biff doesn’t joke. 
It must be serious. I thought he was in 
camp. I hadn’t missed him until now.” 

Mr. Hudson was informed, and knowing 
Biff’s disinclination to play practical jokes, 
he decided that he was in trouble and that 
he must go to him at once. Immediately the 
entire troop clamored to go. They fell in, 
double column, and started toward the 
southwest at a swinging gait, with the Scout 
Master leading the way. As they looked 
back toward camp, they saw Fuzzy Mark- 
ham idly swinging in a hammock. 


146 BIFF McCARTY 

After Biff had sent the message, he 
resumed his vigil, fearful that some sugges- 
tion by one of the trio would cause them to 
change their plans — they might climb the 
tree after him or Bill might again make him 
a target for his murderous weapon! He 
listened, with straining ears, to catch every 
sound which came up from below. Their 
conversation was carried on in such low 
tones that he could not distinguish it. 
Shooting pains darted from his ankle up to 
his knee. His legs and arms ached from the 
strain of his cramped position. Presently 
he heard the voice of Bill saying, "That’s my 
trick. I trumped it”; and he prayed that 
they would continue their card game; it 
would prevent them from plotting new mis- 
chief against him. The three men played 
on, unconscious of what had taken place 
above their heads. They still continued to 
wrangle and play with an intenseness which 
rendered them oblivious of everything else. 
They were so engrossed in their game that 
the troop was almost upon them, when they 
looked up and saw with astonished eyes what 
appeared to be a company of militia charg- 


IN HANDS OF ENEMY 147 

ing down upon them. With a startled yell, 
Big Bill sprang to his feet and cried, 'The 
soldiers! Beat it!’’ and the trio broke into 
a run like frightened sheep. There was no 
time to take a second glance at their pur- 
suers when fear added speed to their prog- 
ress. Down the ridge ran the three men, 
seeking to escape the fusillade of bullets 
which they feared every moment would 
lodge in their backs. They plunged onward 
toward the southwest until the forest swal- 
lowed them up from sight. 

Biff descended to the lowest limb of the 
tree and then dropped into the waiting arms 
of his chief. 


CHAPTER XII 
The Mascot 

It was an unwritten law of the troop that 
every member of it should have a name, other 
than that by which he was known to the 
world. Many of the boys were already 
labeled with appropriate nicknames. A few 
appeared without the required sobriquet, and 
an early council of scouts would be called to 
select an appropriate name. They entered 
into this task with the keenest zest, and great 
was the rejoicing when they selected some 
name of especial appropriateness. Dicky 
Byrd expressed their sentiment when he 
remarked, ‘‘You've got to like a feller to 
give him a name that sticks." In harmony 
with this sentiment, names were bestowed in 
a spirit of comradeship which added honor 
and distinction to the fortunate recipients. 
They gloried in these tokens of good fellow- 
ship, and a newcomer quickly sensed the sit- 
uation and felt deeply hurt if his sobriquet 
148 


THE MASCOT 


149 


were not granted with the promptness which 
his boyish fancy demanded. 

Happy Holmes had borne his felicitous 
name ever since he could remember. Even 
his father and mother had long ceased to call 
him Charles. He was a born optimist, with 
a natural fund of humor, and his round face 
beamed like a continuously full moon. 
Deacon John Parsons gained his distinction 
partly on account of his surname and partly 
by reason of his serious nature and a dignity 
seldom seen in a boy of his years. When 
Carpenter joined the troop he was asked his 
name by the Scout Master. He replied, ‘"My 
name is Archibald Van Courtland Car- 
penter.’’ Happy Holmes remarked in a 
whisper, 'That’s too long a name to drag 
around; let’s call him 'Girlie’ for short,” and 
"Girlie” it became. Alfred Ruddy was 
promptly dubbed "Buddy” because it rhymed 
with Ruddy and because it suited his size 
and general characteristics. Herman Mey- 
ers was called "Heinie” because "Herman 
wasn’t German enough.” Arthur Kingsley 
was labeled "Kid” on account of his dimin- 
utive size and delayed mental development. 


150 BIFF McCARTY 

The reason for Bacon’s appellation of 
"Tiggie” is obvious. ^'Slim” Anderson was 
thus named because of his slender physique. 
Henry Brooks and Arthur Ford were called 
'Tatty” and "Skinny” respectively, because 
they were both large and fat. Edward 
Clark had always been called "Teddy.” 
George Parker had long been known to his 
schoolmates as "Red” — based on the color 
of his hair. Edward Markham was given 
the name "Fuzzy” to conform with the 
fuzzy hat he wore when he joined the troop. 
William McGregor’s title of "Scotty” was 
a tribute to his Scotch ancestry. "Bunny” 
instead of Edwin Brown seemed to meet his 
requirements. "Windy” Day instead of 
Winton Day was a play on words too rich 
to be overlooked. "Chick” superseded 
Charles Mason because of the cockiness of 
the owner. "Curly” Coover’s legal name 
was George, but his mother disregarded 
that name so long ago that he forgot he ever 
had any other name than "Curly.” Arthur 
Farmer acquired "Rube” from a slang desig- 
nation of the occupation represented by his 
surname. ''Jigs'' Young acquired the name 


THE MASCOT 

through his ability to execute a little dance 
called a jig, with which he entertained and 
amused his companions as often as he could 
obtain an audience. When we are told that 
Joseph ‘‘Stuffy’’ Wyman was stout and a 
“pow’ful feeder,” as Caesar expressed it, we 
see the propriety of his name. “Dicky” 
Byrd had entirely supplanted “Richard” 
ever since his parents abandoned his orig- 
inal cognomen. William Weaver, the troop 
bugjer, was appropriately called “Toots.” 
Willis Allen was called “Bing” for the sole 
reason that the troop wished it on him. 
William LeRoy brought the name of “Boy- 
sey” with him from home. Walter Black 
was given the title of “Whitie” evidently for 
the purpose of contrast and ter please those 
boys who had a keen appreciation of dra- 
matic values. Doctor John Scott, a young 
physician, occupied the post of troop sur- 
geon and the boys promptly and unanimously 
dubbed him “Bones.” The name “Rags” 
for the troop mascot, an Airedale terrier, 
spoke volumes concerning his personal ap- 
pearance. His shaggy hair stood out around 
his face like unkempt whiskers. His ap- 


152 BIFF McCARTY 

pearance indicated that he needed a hair cut. 
He gloried in his name and manifested his 
delight by a vigorous wagging of his stumpy 
tail whenever he heard a friendly voice 
address him by this disreputable title. If he 
looked like a tramp, it did not follow that 
he had any of the characteristics of that 
unsavory class of citizens, excepting an occa- 
sional attack of wanderlust. One such attack 
had nearly cost him his life. 

One day, while he was still an overgrown 
pup, the wanderlust in his soul prompted him 
to leave the good home of his master and 
stray to a distant part of the city. He saw 
new and wonderful sights. He got ac- 
quainted with new dogs who were not on 
his calling list. He chased more strange cats 
that afternoon than he had ever pursued 
in a whole week before. He barked at many 
flocks of sparrows which eluded his scurry- 
ing rushes. Altogether he was enjoying the 
experience immensely. He made up his 
mind to take these excursions daily. How 
far he had traveled he did not know. The 
people, the streets, and the houses were un- 
familiar to him. When at last a faint sug- 


THE MASCOT ijs 

gestion of hunger made him think of home 
and the good bones he always found there, 
he realized that he did not know what direc- 
tion home was in. He was lost ! A terrible 
fear seized him. He began to run wildly 
about, up one street and down another, look- 
ing for some familiar landmark which would 
enable him to locate his home. He thought 
he recognized a house far down the street. 
With a bark of joy he dashed toward it. On 
he sped, when, suddenly, crossing a side 
street, a delivery wagon whirled around the 
corner, and before he could stop, or even 
swerve his body out of danger, the heavy 
wheels struck him and he was crushed to the 
pavement. A stinging pain, unlike anything 
he had ever experienced, shot through his 
right leg. He could hear the rattle of the 
retreating wagon. He tried to rise, but fell 
back — weak and limp. He called for help 
by a series of sharp, agonizing yelps. Buddy 
Ruddy, returning home from school, had wit- 
nessed the accident half a block away, and 
came running to his assistance. 

‘'What's the matter, doggie ?" he inquired, 
sympathetically, as he cautiously patted his 


154 BIFF McCARTY 

head. The dog answered with a piteous 
whine and licked Buddy’s hand as he looked 
up with great brown eyes that said, ^T’m 
badly hurt; can’t you help me?” Buddy 
understood this dog language and said, ''All 
right, doggie. I’ll carry you home and fix 
you up,” and gathering up the dog in his 
arms he started for his home, two blocks dis- 
tant. On the next block he met Bunny 
Brown, who volunteered his assistance. The 
dog was transferred carefully to Bunny’s 
arms, who completed the journey and depos- 
ited his burden in the kitchen of Buddy’s 
home. Here the boys produced their first- 
aid package and proceeded to examine the 
patient. They found a fracture of the right 
fore leg. They made splints from soft pine 
kindling and set the limb, placed the splints 
in position and bound it with bandages so 
that it could not be moved. A cut was dis- 
covered on the top and near the left side of 
his head ; this was washed, then dressed with 
an antiseptic, cooling salve and bandaged 
with white strips of linen until the dog looked 
as if he were wearing a nightcap. 

During all this time a pan of milk, which 


THE MASCOT ijs 

Buddy had obtained, sat untouched under 
the dog's nose. Little whines and yelps be- 
trayed the pain he was suffering, but he 
never took his intelligent eyes off his new- 
found friends, who, he realized, were doing 
all in their power to help him. When they 
had completed their first-aid to the injured 
dog they placed him in a corner of the kitchen 
floor on the silk sofa pillows which Buddy 
brought from the parlor, and patted and 
stroked his head with many expressions of 
sympathy. Suddenly Bunny said, '‘Maybe 
we haven't done it right; we ought to get 
Bones to see him." 

"Yes, I'll phone him right away," as- 
sented Buddy as he dashed up the stairs. 
The excited boy got the physician on the tele- 
phone and sputtered out his story. All 
Doctor Scott could catch of his conversa- 
tion were these disjointed expressions: 
"Buddy Ruddy — right leg broken — come at 
once." 

Gathering up his surgical instrument 
satchel, he rushed to Buddy's home as fast 
as his automobile could carry him. He felt 
sorry for Buddy as he recalled what a fine, 


156 BIFF McCARTY 

manly fellow he was, and he hoped, for the 
boy’s sake, that the injury would not prove 
as serious as indicated. 

Arriving at the home, he was met at the 
door by Buddy. The surgeon looked at the 
boy in amazement and said: “Why, some one 
telephoned me you had broken your leg. I 
am glad it is not true.” 

“No,” answered Buddy, “I said the dog’s 
leg." 

“O,” said Doctor Scott, with a tone of 
relief in his voice. 

“Please come back here. Doctor,” contin- 
ued Buddy, leading the way to the kitchen. 
This was the doctor’s first experience as a 
veterinary surgeon, but one glance at 
Buddy’s earnest, eager face decided him to 
take the case in spite of professional ethics 
or loss of professional dignity. The boys 
quickly told the story of the accident and 
their efforts at first aid. Examining their 
surgical work the doctor said, “You have 
done splendidly, boys, but perhaps we had 
better reset the limb to make sure it is prop- 
erly done.” 

Removing the splints, the surgeon reset 


THE MASCOT 157 

and rebandaged the broken leg, leaving the 
splints extended beyond his paw so that the 
dog could not use it in walking, and cautioned 
the boys to put him in a small box in which 
he could not turn around or get on his feet, 
and thus prevent injury to the fractured 
limb. The physician then left, after asking 
the boys to telephone him if his services were 
needed again. The two chums obtained a 
box of the required size, removed one end and 
fastened a movable screen over it to give 
the dog air, food, and water and tenderly 
placed him in it, on the bed of silk sofa 
cushions, and nailed down the top of the box. 
For the first time since his injury the dog 
lapped a few mouthfuls of milk and looked 
up at his new masters with gratitude and 
loyalty shining in his beautiful brown eyes. 
The fractured bone knit rapidly from day 
to day and his complete recovery was only a 
matter of time. Buddy bestowed the name 
of ''Rags’’ on his new friend, and their 
friendship grew with every hour. 

It finally occurred to the boy that the dog 
had an owner, and that it would not be right 
for him to keep him as his own. A pang of 


158 BIFF McCARTY 

regret came over him as he realized that the 
dog must soon go out of his life and be 
restored to his rightful owner. Duty over- 
powered sentiment and he inserted an adver- 
tisement in the "'Found’’ column of a daily 
newspaper, in response to which the owner 
appeared at Buddy’s home the next evening 
to claim his dog. Buddy told him the story 
of the accident and of the assistance he and 
Bunny had rendered. He spoke of his affec- 
tion for Rags, which was returned by the 
animal. 

“I love that dog, Mr. Smith,” asserted the 
boy, "and I think you ought to let me keep 
him until he is entirely well. I don’t think 
you could move him now ; it might break his 
leg over again.” As Buddy made this state- 
ment, he fondly stroked the head of the dog, 
who showed his love by licking the boy’s 
hand and looking at him with eyes shining 
with the light of a gratitude which he could 
not otherwise express. The owner realized 
the deep affection which had developed be- 
tween these two chums, and he said gener- 
ously: "I won’t take him from you, my boy. 
He already thinks more of you than he ever 


THE MASCOT ijg 

did of me. You saved his life and you have 
earned your title to him. I am going to make 
you a present of him.^' 

''O, thank you, Mr. Smith, returned 
Buddy eagerly. 'Tdl take awful good care 
of him.’’ 

‘T am sure you will,” replied Mr. Smith, 
‘'and now, good night. I wish you much 
pleasure in your new friend.” 

The young dog made rapid recovery under 
the careful nursing of Buddy, and as he 
gained in health and strength, so the love of 
the boy and the dog for each other grew. 
They were constant companions and play- 
mates and many a trouble and difficulty did 
the boy whisper in the ear of the dog, who 
wagged his stumpy tail sympathetically and 
smiled as if to say, “Don’t worry, Buddy; 
it will come out all right.” 

Rags was Buddy’s companion on all th^ 
hikes taken by the troop, and it was on these 
occasions that he ingratiated himself into 
the affections of every scout by his intelli- 
gence and playful disposition. It is not 
strange, therefore, that when some one pro- 
posed that a mascot be selected for the troop 


i 6 o BIFF McCARTY 

the boys turned toward the dog with one 
accord and yelled, ''Rags/’ The startled 
dog bounded from the spot where he had 
been lying, and with keen alertness stood 
at "attention.” It was thus that he was 
elected to membership in Troop 20, Boy 
Scouts of America. 

The Scout Master had retired to his tent, 
where he was busy with troop records and 
with forming plans for the morrow. The 
boys were lolling about under the shade of 
the big trees which surrounded the camp, 
talking, resting, and reading. Happy 
Holmes suggested: "Say, fellows, do you 
know that everybody in this troop has got a 
nickname, except Mr. Hudson? I don’t 
think it’s right to leave him out.” 

Chick Mason assented by saying: "Neither 
do I. He’ll feel hurt if we don’t treat him as 
well as the rest of the troop.” 

"All right,” agreed Heinie Meyers, "let’s 
give him a name.” 

The others gathered around in a large 
circle and seated themselves on the 
ground. 


THE MASCOT 

Bunny Brown suggested, ‘‘Deacon, you 
take charge of the meeting/’ 

Adjutant Parsons said, “Come to order, 
fellows, and let’s hear suggestions for a 
name for our Scout Master.” 

Happy Holmes said, “I think ‘Prexy’ 
would be a good name for him.” 

Rube Farmer suggested “Long Legs.” 

“No, that won’t do,” asserted Scotty Mc- 
Gregor; “it ain’t dignified enough.” 

“Well, let’s call him ‘Captain,’ ” urged 
Girlie Carpenter. 

“We ain’t no troop of soldiers,” declared 
Bunny Brown; “we’re a troop of Boy 
Scouts.” 

“What’s the matter with ‘Professor,’ or 
‘Daddy’?” inquired Dutch. 

“I think ‘Big Nose’ would be a better 
name for him,” asserted Bing Allen. 

None of these suggestions were received 
with favor by the boys, who, without analyz- 
ing their mental processes, were conscious 
that they did not satisfy the requirements of 
their tastes or reasons. At last little Dicky 
Byrd spoke up: “Let me have a chance, fel- 
lows. Supposin’ we were a tribe of wild In- 


i 62 BIFF McCARTY 

dians living in wigwams way out West; and 
we were hunting game, and fishing and 
scalping white people for a living. We 
would have a big chief at our head, wouldn’t 
we?’^ 

^Wes,” answered the boys in chorus. 

‘Well, if we were goin’ to elect a big chief 
to-day, who would we elect?” 

‘Why, Mr. Hudson, of course,” came 
from all parts of the circle. 

‘Well, then let’s call him ‘Chief’ Hudson,” 
concluded Dicky. 

This suggestion met with instant favor 
and was carried unanimously with a whoop. 

Deacon Parsons then said: “Fellows, I 
think we ought to appoint a committee of 
one to officially notify Mr. Hudson that we 
have voted a new name for him.” 

With the assent of the scouts, the Adju- 
tant announced, “I will appoint Dicky as the 
committee, in honor of his selecting the 
name.” 

The boys, with Dicky at their head, ap- 
proached the Scout Master’s tent, when their 
spokesman, with some trepidation, said in a 
weak, trembling voice, “Mr. Hudson, you 


THE MASCOT 

know everybody in the troop has got a nick- 
name ’cept you, and we knew you didn’t want 
to be left out, and we didn’t want you to feel 
hurt, so we voted to call you ‘Chief.’ ” 

A smile played around the corners of the 
Scout Master’s mouth as he arose and said, 
pleasantly, ‘T thank you. Scouts, for this 
compliment. The distinction you have con- 
ferred upon me by this title will add new 
responsibilities to those I already have. I 
assure you I appreciate my new honors 
highly, and I shall do my best to measure up 
to them. I thank you heartily for this ex- 
pression of your friendship. Now I know 
that I am one of you.” 

Curly Coover proposed three cheers for 
the “Chief,” and they were given with such 
suddenness and vehemence that Caesar fell 
over a pile of pots and pans, the loud clatter 
of which joined in swelling the praise for the 
new chief. They little realized that their 
Chief would, on the morrow, be the principal 
factor in the rescue of the troop from the 
most perilous situation which had ever con- 
fronted them. 


CHAPTER XIII 
Prisoners in a Cave 

Reveille sounded clear and shrill at 
sunup, assailing the ears of the sleeping boys 
like a fire alarm. In spite of nine hours’ 
sleep, there were some boys who were obliv- 
ious to all sounds. gee!” yawned Red 
Parker, sleepily, "4s it time to get up? It 
seems like I just went to bed.” 

Girlie Carpenter was quickly up, and grab- 
bing Slim Anderson by the leg began to drag 
him, protesting, to the door of the tent. 
Buddy Ruddy was riding astride Teddy 
Clark, using a towel as a whip. In another 
tent Heine Meyers was tickling Windy Day’s 
feet with a straw, while Rags was running 
from one tent to another, barking furiously 
with excitement and pulling blankets from 
sleepy scouts with his teeth as his way of 
expressing his disapproval of late sleeping. 
Soon the whole camp was awake and then 
began another busy day. 

Headed by Mr. Hudson, the troop started 

164 


PRISONERS IN A CAVE 165 

on a run for the swimming hole which re- 
sounded with plunk-splash-plunk, as scout 
after scout plunged into the cool waters. A 
thorough scrubbing with soap followed, then 
a great splashing in the water and the boys 
climbed out on the bank, where vigorous rub- 
bing with towels followed. The scouts were 
now thoroughly awake; then a race back to 
camp and hurried dressing. ‘'Who’s got my 
shirt?” rang out one voice. 

“Pm not your valet,” answered his neigh- 
bor. 

“Eve only got one shoe,” complained 
Scotty McGregor. 

“Why didn’t your father buy you two?” 
retorted Bunny Brown. 

At last each boy found his various articles 
of wearing apparel — exactly where he had 
left them — and soon thirty smiling, hungry 
faces were ready to be fed with the initial 
meal of the day. 

The cook detail for the day consisted of 
Deacon Parsons, Red Parker, and Boysey 
LeRoy. The detail was changed every day, 
which arrangement permitted each boy in 
turn to learn cooking by actual experience 


i66 BIFF McCARTY 

under the immediate direction and tutelage 
of the negro chef, John Gordon, who was 
promptly dubbed ‘'Caesar'’ by the boys. 

Caesar was forty-five, fat, good-natured 
and an excellent cook, having learned his 
“profession" — he always called it his “pro- 
fession" — during his twenty-three years’ ex- 
perience in the dining car service of one of 
our transcontinental railroads. “He certainly 
can cook flap-jacks," said Bing Allen, and 
this expressed the unanimous sentiment of 
the troop. The first day in camp Gordon 
was seen coming over the hill with a load of 
firewood on his back, which he was bringing 
into camp. Toots Weaver remarked, “Here 
comes Caesar crossing the Alps," and the 
name became a fixture ever afterward. Not 
the least of his qualifications for his job was 
his never-failing happy disposition. He took 
the raillery of the boys and the many tricks 
they played on him with uniform good 
nature. He took pride in his ability to cook 
and was highly pleased at his appointment 
as instructor of the cook detail. On one 
occasion, when preparing dinner, he had 
cooked a pot of delicious soup. Four scouts 


PRISONERS IN A CAVE 167 

decided to play a practical joke on him. 
Obtaining a large kettle, while Caesar had 
gone to the commissary tent for provisions, 
the boys quickly emptied the soup in the 
kettle and hid it behind a clump of bushes 
and filled up the original pot with boiling 
water. When Caesar returned he sampled 
the soup, as was his custom before serving it, 
and a look of dismay spread over his face. 

“Well ! for de Ian’s sake ! dem soup bones 
mus’ be pow’ful weak. Dey ain’t no 
strength in dis soup a-tall, a-tall. It tastes 
like water.” 

The knowing grins on the faces of four 
scouts directed suspicion toward them at 
once. Mr. Hudson appeared and guessed the 
cause of the trouble. Turning to the sus- 
pected scouts, he said, “Boys, what have you 
done to this soup?” 

Whitie Black shifted guiltily from one foot 
to the other as he replied, “We hid it in the 
bushes and filled the pot with hot water.” 

“Guilty scouts, raise your hands and ’fess 
up,” said Mr. Hudson. 

Without a moment’s hesitation the hands 
of Whitie Black, Jigs Young, Stuffy Wy- 


i68 BIFF McCARTY 

man, and Windy Day were thrust high in 
the air, for the members of Troop 20 were 
'"on honor,^’ and it was an unwritten law of 
the troop that every boy should "tell on” 
himself. 

Turning to Toots Weaver, the Scout 
Master said, "Blow the mess call.” 

In a twinkling scouts poured out of tents 
and took their places noisily at the mess 
table. After grace had been said by the 
Scout Master, he announced, "We have two 
kinds of soup for dinner to-day — thick and 
thin soup. Every scout will be served with 
the kind for which he has expressed a prefer- 
ence, and inasmuch as Scouts Black, Young, 
Wyman, and Day have expressed their fond- 
ness for thin soup by actions which speak 
louder than words, the cook detail will serve 
them plentifully with that soup.” 

The four guilty scouts looked sheepishly 
at their comrades, but they manfully swal- 
lowed their portions of water-soup while the 
others taunted them with praise of the real 
soup. 

"My! but this soup is good,” said Bing 
Allen. 


PRISONERS IN A CAVE 169 

'It’s the best I ever tasted,” volunteered 
Piggie Bacon. 

“Caesar will get a medal for making such 
fine soup,” said Teddy Clark. 

“Say, fellers,” admonished Happy 
Holmes, addressing the four culprits, “don’t 
gorge yourselves to death just because you 
like it.” 

A shout of laughter greeted this sarcasm, 
in which the guilty four joined half-heart- 
edly. Caesar looked appeased at the punish- 
ment meted out to the scouts and remarked 
to everyone in general and to no one in par- 
ticular, “I bet dem scouts don’t come pesti- 
catin’ roun’ my kitchen no mo’. He! he! 
he I” he chuckled, “Mistah Hudson sho’ 
knows how to fix ’em.” 

The event of the day, which filled the boys 
with anticipation, was a hike to Big Cave, 
three miles away. The entrance to the cave 
was in a cliff facing the Meramec River. • 
The troop fell in line and marched away 
through the woods and the tedium of the trip 
was relieved by stopping now and then to 
listen to the Scout Master’s description of 
some tree before them. They reached the 


170 BIFF McCARTY 

river at a point some distance below the cliffs 
and picked their way along its base up- 
stream until they saw the mouth of the cave 
above them. 

“Look/’ exclaimed Bunny Brown, point- 
ing up the river, “somebody is swimming 
there.” 

They saw the heads of three men above 
the water, but the distance was too great to 
recognize them. In another moment the 
swimmers caught sight of the troop, and 
quickly made for shore to seek the cover of 
protecting bushes growing along the bank, 
which would screen them from view. 

The troop now scaled the face of the cliff, 
with much effort, and headed by the Scout 
Master, they plunged into the darkness of 
the cave, flashing their electric lamps. The 
interior, near the mouth, opened out into a 
wide room through the center of which ran 
a little stream which poured its clear, cold 
waters in a sparkling cascade into the river 
below. Here they found a bed of leaves 
showing the impressions where three bodies 
had lain. At one side they saw a battered 
tin bucket, three empty tomato cans, and 


PRISONERS IN A CAVE 171 

some chicken bones picked bare. On the 
floor, beyond the bed, lay three suits of tat- 
tered clothes, including shoes, and three re- 
volvers fully loaded. The latter were appro- 
priated by Mr. Hudson, who remarked, as 
he slipped them into his pocket, 'T think I 
had better take these with me.’^ 

“It wouldn't be a bad idea to take the 
shoes also," he continued, and three pairs of 
shoes were passed over to the boys to carry. 

They now proceeded farther into the cave, 
where the sides became narrower and the 
roof lower, and soon they were crawling on 
all fours, single file, along the ledge of rocks 
at the side of the stream. Twenty-five yards 
of this kind of travel brought them into a 
great subterranean chamber, ranging in 
width from seventy-five to one hundred feet. 
It was a huge amphitheater of marvelous 
beauty which surrounded them. They were 
in a great underground cathedral, carved out 
of solid rock by the hand of nature. 

The floor of this cavern contained a large 
pool of water, formed by the stream run- 
ning through the cave. Here the troop 
stopped and in response to a command of 


172 BIFF McCARTY 

Mr. Hudson, they concentrated the light of 
their search lamps on the ceiling of this won- 
derful room. Many crystal stalactites hung 
from the roof of the cavern and glittered in 
the brilliancy of the electric lights until they 
resembled huge icicles. 

The Scout Master explained to the boys 
that they had been formed, through the 
countless ages since the earth began, by the 
constant dripping from the roof of water 
saturated with calcareous matter which 
gradually became deposited on the roof and 
slowly, through the centuries, formed this 
stone icicle. 

Water was still dripping from these stalac- 
tites, and directly under many of them were 
stalagmites of various sizes, in the form of 
inverted icicles. 

Biff struck a long stalagmite with his staff 
which gave forth a clear musical sound like 
the soft, low peal of a bell. Soon other 
boys were following his example, until the 
great subterranean amphitheater resounded 
with musical notes like the chimes of distant 
church bells. 

They shouted up to the vaulted dome of 


PRISONERS IN A CAVE 173 

the cavern, and listened to the echoes of their 
own voices hurled back at them with stac- 
cato distinctness. By focusing their lamps 
on one spot at a time, they illuminated new 
wonders in rapid succession. 

Large caverns and rooms led from this 
gigantic amphitheater in many directions, 
apparently carved by the hand of man, but 
which Mr. Hudson explained were caused 
by the erosion of the water. 

Skirting the side of the pool, they sounded 
its depth with their staves, showing it to be 
from two to six feet. Gradually they worked 
their way around to the opposite side and 
again met the little stream which fed it. 

Here the cavern assumed its normal size, 
at times wide, now narrow. There were 
places where the walls came so close together 
that two scouts could not go abreast, and the 
little stream occupied the entire floor be- 
tween the walls. 

It was here that the boys were compelled 
to pick their way carefully over the stones 
which lined the bed of the stream. Presently 
the walls widened again, leaving a bench on 
one side to serve as a footway. A little 


174 BIFF McCARTY 

farther on the cavern contracted narrowly, 
and their heads at times scraped the roof. 

Then they came to a fork in the cavern 
showing two passage ways, both of which 
appeared to be of equal size and stretching 
away an interminable distance in the dark- 
ness. 

Slim Anderson inquired, ''Which of these 
roads shall we take 

"It will be safer for us to take the right 
hand branch, which contains the stream,’" 
was the reply of the Master. 

Flashing their lamps, they plunged into 
the blackness of this channel, which de- 
creased in size until the boys were again on 
hands and knees. The troop proceeded 
slowly until the passage contracted to such 
an extent that the larger boys scraped their 
backs on the roof. They came to a stretch 
of floor covered with muddy slime, and it 
was then decided it would be impracti- 
cable to proceed farther, so the command 
"About, face” was given, and for the first 
time in their lives, the troop executed this 
command on hands and knees. 

They retraced their steps and were again 


PRISONERS IN A CAVE 175 

back in the huge amphitheater through 
which they had recently passed. Leaving 
this, they again followed the stream down- 
ward, which brought them to the narrow, 
low passage which would soon lead them into 
the room in which evidences of habitation 
were seen on their inward journey. Round- 
ing a sharp turn, they were confronted with 
a pile of bowlders, great and small, com- 
pletely filling the passage way from floor to 
roof. They were wedged together closely 
and securely. It was evident they could 
not have fallen from above. They had been 
placed there by human hands during the two 
hours since their entrance into the cave. 

'WeTe walled in!'’ exclaimed Biff, who 
was in the lead. 

‘Trapped!” gasped Bunny, peering over 
his shoulder, his eyes wide with fright. 

Word was quickly passed to those in the 
rear and the seriousness of the situation was 
reflected in their grave faces. Walled up in 
a cavern, without food! 

Mr. Hudson now came to the front and 
made a close inspection of the obstruction. 

“Pm afraid our three friends have a 


176 BIFF McCARTY 

grudge against us/’ he remarked. '‘Well/’ 
he continued, "we’ll have to get to work 
and see what we can do.” 

Biif was behind him with an electric light 
flashing against the wall. Mr. Hudson be- 
gan his assault, at the top of the wall, on the 
smaller stones which he slowly dislodged 
with much effort. They were passed back, 
one by one, and carried to the larger chamber 
behind them. A small hole finally was torn 
through and they breathed a sigh of relief — 
but their work had just begun. 

Pausing for rest, they heard the patter of 
three pairs of bare feet moving beyond the 
wall. Biff flashed his light through the open- 
ing into the darkness beyond, but could see 
nothing. As he was about to withdraw his 
head he caught a glimpse of Big Bill’s 
brawny arm, from behind a jutting rock, 
hurling a stone full in his face. He jerked 
his head backward and dropped below the 
opening, as the stone struck the top of the 
wall and rolled to the floor at his feet with a 
clatter which reverberated throughout the 
cave. 

Mr. Hudson instantly drew one of the re- 


PRISONERS IN A CAVE 177 

volvers which he had found on entering the 
cave and aimed it in the direction from which 
the stone came. The roar of the discharge 
hurt their ears. Then all was still. He 
peered ahead through the gloom, but nothing 
was visible. A second stone, hurled by an 
unseen hand, grazed the chief’s head and 
again his revolver spit fire. He now focused 
his lamp on the projecting rock behind which 
the men were hiding and again his weapon 
barked, leaving a thin streak of lead along 
its face. He heard a gasp as the bullet sung 
past their faces as the men flattened them- 
selves close against the wall. Keeping the 
face of the rock illuminated, he trained his 
revolver on it, with his finger poised on the 
trigger. 

The edge of a sleeve cautiously appeared 
from behind the rock and twice the automatic 
spoke in rapid succession — then silence 
reigned. 

After a time Biff and his chief resumed 
their attack on the wall, each working with 
his left hand only, for the light and the 
weapon must be kept trained on the rock. 
Slowly they dislodged the bowlders, pulling 


178 BIFF McCARTY 

them down in the passage way behind them 
where they were removed by their comrades. 
Like a flash, a stone sped through the open- 
ing and struck Biff on the head. His light 
dropped from his limp hand, as a fusillade of 
shots was returned by his chief in the direc- 
tion from which the missile came. 

Biff dropped to the floor of the cavern, but 
soon picked himself up, rubbed his head, and 
said : 'It's only a scratch. It was a glancing 
blow." But the blood which trickled down 
his forehead belied his words. He insisted 
on resuming his position. Again the lamp 
and the weapon were trained on the hiding 
place and held there — minute after minute. 
Suddenly, a hand grasping a stone, followed 
by a brawny arm, was swung around the 
corner of the rock. At the same instant a 
bullet sped from the waiting weapon, fol- 
lowed by a yell of pain as the arm fell limply. 

When the roar of the report had died away 
they heard the patter of bare feet running 
rapidly toward the mouth of the cave. Free 
from interruption, they now made good 
progress against the wall which blocked their 
way. Piece by piece it was removed until 


PRISONERS IN A CAVE 179 

they were able to clamber over it and passed 
out to the mouth of the cave. Here they 
stopped and looked about them, but no trace 
of the men could be seen. They descended 
the cliff and as they walked along the shore 
they found the print of bare feet in the sand 
and mud, pointing down stream. The troop 
followed the trail for half a mile, then turned 
to the north toward camp. As they were 
about to leave the river. Bunny asked, ‘‘What 
are we going to do with these?’’ pointing to 
three pairs of shoes slung over his back. 

“Throw ’em in the river,” replied Biff, 
and the boy flung them far out into the center 
of the stream. 

Then the troop took up their march back 
to camp. 

“That’s the last I’ll ever see of Big Bill 
again,” announced Biff with certainty. But 
he little suspected that this man was again to 
enter his life in a very unusual way and cause 
him the most poignant sorrow it had ever 
been his lot to endure. 


CHAPTER XIV 
The Scout Master's Story 

It was evening and the troop had assem- 
bled around the camp fire, piled high with 
dry wood. The flames shot upward into the 
night and danced with quivering light, illu- 
minating the surrounding forest and fur- 
nishing an indescribable sense of security 
and comfort to those within its influence. 

The stillness of night hovered over them, 
broken only by the crackle of burning wood 
and the hoots of screech owls in the sur- 
rounding trees. Nothing furnishes such 
stimulus to the imagination as a camp fire. 
It calls into play all the mysticism and mys- 
tery of the human mind. It discovers the 
hidden wellsprings of romance, legend, and 
adventure. It inspires the art of the story- 
teller as nothing else can do and furnishes 
a perfect stage setting for the dramatic 
recital about to be presented. 

It was on such an occasion as this that 
ISO 


SCOUT MASTER^S STORY i8i 

Biff, addressing Mr. Hudson, asked, ^Wonff 
you tell us a story?'' 

‘"Yes," repeated the other members of the 
troop in chorus. ‘‘A story ! A story !" 

‘‘What shall it be?" inquired the Scout 
Master. 

“An Indian story," came the answer from 
all parts of the circle. “Tell us a true story." 

“Very well," replied the Scout Master, “I 
will tell you the story of an Indian boy." 

The members of the troop settled them- 
selves comfortably on logs or stretched out 
at full length on the ground and awaited with 
keen interest this story: 

“After the close of the Revolutionary 
War, and near the beginning of the nine- 
teenth century, a tribe of Indians called the 
Ozaws lived and hunted in the Ozark Moun- 
tains near the Maromeg River, which was 
the Indian name for the river now known as 
the Meramec. 

“This tribe maintained their village on the 
bank of the river seventy or eighty miles 
above the place where it emptied itself into 
the Father of Waters. Here they hunted 
and fished, to supply themselves with food. 


i 82 BIFF McCARTY 

and trapped the valuable fur-bearing animals 
whose skins they conveyed in canoes, at the 
close of the hunting season in the spring, 
down the Maromeg River to a trading post 
conducted by the Frenchman, Jean Courtois, 
who gave them in exchange guns, ammuni- 
tion, beads, blankets, hunting knives, and 
crude cooking utensils. The Indians then 
returned to their village and watched their 
squaws plant a few acres of zea or mais — 
the names given by them to what we know 
as corn — in the fertile valleys near the river. 

‘'They subsisted chiefly on game, fish, and 
zea, to which they added wild rice (which 
grew plentifully in certain swampy places) 
together with nuts, berries, and roots. The 
squaws performed all the manual labor of 
planting and harvesting the corn, gathering 
roots and nuts, and the preparation of the 
food, for it was considered beneath the dig- 
nity of a warrior and hunter to engage in 
such menial occupations. The squaws gath- 
ered apukwas, a kind of pliable wild rush, 
which they used in making mats to cover the 
dirt floors of their wigwams, and tanned the 
furs brought in by the hunters. 


SCOUT MASTER^S STORY 183 

‘The chief of the Ozaw tribe was re- 
nowned for his bravery and skill as a warrior 
and his prowess as a mighty hunter; one 
who had proven his right to command by 
innumerable victories on the battlefield 
against hostile Indian tribes. 0 -quin-taw 
was his name and the emblem of his chief- 
tainship was a crest of five eagle feathers 
dyed a brilliant red with the juice of poke 
berries. He occupied the largest wigwam in 
the village, at the door of which stood a pole 
surmounted by a stuffed eagle. The floor 
of his tepee was carpeted with a profusion 
of buffalo robes used as bedding, while the 
walls were lined with skins of panther, 
beaver, otter, deer, bear, and wildcat — the 
trophies of his successful marksmanship. 

“His family consisted of his wife, his 
daughter, Tah-kee, fifteen years old, and his 
son, Tonk-a, nearly thirteen years of age. 

“0-quin-taw’s hopes were all centered in 
the future of Tonk-a, who he prayed would 
grow up worthy to follow in his footsteps, 
and would prove, by his skill as a hunter and 
warrior, his right to succeed his father as 
chief of this mighty tribe. 


i 84 BIFF McCARTY 

‘'As a boy Tonk-a played with the other 
Indian boys and girls of the village, and he 
grew to be skilled in the use of the bow and 
arrow and frequently made short excursions 
into the surrounding country, during which 
he killed small game. 

“He fashioned his own bows and arrows, 
including the arrowheads which he shaped 
from small pieces of flint, and bound them 
with a thong of deerskin in a fork split in 
the end of the arrowshaft. He had already 
passed the test for good eyesight by pointing 
out in the heavens the ‘papoose’ star on the 
‘squaw’s’ back, at the bend of the handle in 
the Great Dipper. 

“For a long time he had been urging his 
father to give him permission to undergo the 
test required to qualify one as a hunter. 
This consisted in sending a boy alone into the 
distant forest, far beyond the village, armed 
with a bow and arrow, to kill and bring 
back, as proof of his skill as a hunter, the 
skin of big game, such as deer, elk, buffalo, 
bear, or panther. 

“Late in the autumn, as Tonk-a’s thir- 
teenth birthday was approaching, 0-quin- 


SCOUT MASTER^S STORY 185 

taw gave him permission to undergo the test. 
Tonk-a, in accordance with the tribal custom, 
spent two days in fasting. This was known 
as the fast of virility, or coming to manhood. 
On the evening of the second day he walked 
far up the river along the limestone cliffs 
which bordered the stream and climbed on a 
rock jutting up from the base like a pulpit, 
which he had dedicated as his place of wor-* 
ship, to invoke the blessing of the Great 
Spirit on his journey. 

‘'He reached the top of the rock amid the 
silence of the night, lighted only by the faint 
gleam of the twinkling stars that glowed in 
the heavens like fireflies. 

“Standing erect, with his face to the east 
and with arms uplifted toward heaven, he 
offered this prayer: ‘O, Great Spirit, Father 
of all things, heed my prayer for the 
strength, the wisdom, and the fortitude 
necessary for this great test I am about to 
undergo. Grant me some of thy keenness of 
eye, fleetness of limb, and strength of arm to 
succeed as a hunter and bring renown upon 
my illustrious father and my beloved tribe.^ 

“The following morning he broke his fast 


i86 BIFF McCARTY 

and began preparation for the journey, in 
which he was assisted by his mother and 
Tah-kee, both of whom loved him dearly, and 
keenly hoped for the success of his perilous 
adventure. 

"'He equipped himself with a bow, the 
strongest he was able to bend, a quiver full 
of arrows tipped with flint heads, a toma- 
hawk made of flint and bound to a wood 
handle with buckskin thongs, and a steel 
hunting knife. 

"His clothing consisted of a beaver-skin 
cap, buckskin coat, shirt and leggings, and 
buckskin moccasins, all of which had been 
made by the loving hands of his mother and 
sister. On his back he carried the tanned 
robe of a buffalo calf, to be used at night as 
his bed, and in the day it was the receptacle 
for parched zea and bear’s fat, to supple- 
ment the game which he expected to kill for 
food while on the expedition. 

"Thus equipped he stepped forth, ready 
for the journey. 0-quin-taw, standing tall 
and straight before the door of his wigwam, 
gave him this final benediction: "Go, Tonk-a, 
my son, and return a hunter.’ 


SCOUT MASTER^S STORY 187 

''His mother and Tah-kee accompanied 
him a short distance up the river, and as they 
turned to leave him they embraced him affec- 
tionately, while tears trickled down the face 
of the Indian mother as she saw the boy, 
who was so dear to her heart, plunge reso- 
lutely into the tangled forest. 

"Tonk-a realized that there was little pros- 
pect of finding big game within two or three 
days’ journey from the village, and he there- 
fore directed his energies to making prog- 
ress in a northwesterly direction, following 
closely along the banks of the stream until 
he should get near the headwaters of the 
river where the hunters of his tribe had told 
him big game was to be found. 

"For three days he plodded over hills and 
through valleys, cutting his way through 
tangled underbrush, fording creeks whose 
icy waters chilled his limbs, and again up 
over the low mountains until he came upon 
a section of country, great tracts of which 
had been burned over by Indian hunters, who 
thus destroyed the thick underbrush in the 
forest that they might the better see and kill 
the big game. 


i88 BIFF McCARTY 

''Up to this time he had subsisted on two 
squirrels, a rabbit, and a prairie chicken, 
which he shot without difficulty, as he was 
able to approach within easy range. 

"On the fourth day he sighted a herd of 
seven deer at the edge of a creek which 
flowed into the Maromeg River, but they dis- 
covered his presence long before he arrived 
within range and quickly disappeared into 
the forest. 

"Again, about noon, he saw a magnificent 
elk striding majestically through the woods. 
Dropping on all fours, he began to crawl 
toward this stately monarch of the forest, 
but evidently he was not skilled in the art 
of stalking, as the cracking of a twig under 
his knee was heard by the animal, which 
soon placed himself at a safe distance from 
Tonk-a. 

"Two buffaloes came within view on the 
fifth day, but he was unable to get within 
shooting distance. In the afternoon of that 
day he was startled by a crash of branches 
not a hundred yards away, and, looking up, 
he saw a magnificent elk rushing through 
the forest with a panther perched on his 


SCOUT MASTER^S STORY 189 

shoulders and tearing at his neck with cruel 
fangs. 

'Trom now on he caught sight of many 
deer, singly and in small herds, but they 
were always wary, keenly alert, and suspi- 
cious of the slightest unusual sound. Many 
times he attempted to crawl within shooting 
distance, screening himself from view behind 
rocks, trunks of trees, and fallen logs, but in 
each case the rustle of a leaf or the breaking 
of a twig under his foot alarmed his prey 
and sent them scampering away to safety. 

‘^Toward evening he came upon another 
herd of deer, and arriving, after much labo- 
rious effort, at what he deemed to be within 
range of his arrow, he drew his bow and let 
fly, only to see the arrow strike the earth 
near the feet of the herd, which vanished like 
mist into the depths of the forest beyond. 

‘Thoroughly discouraged, he prepared to 
make camp for the night. He lighted a fire 
with two pieces of flint and while it was burn- 
ing, he shot a squirrel which he skinned and 
impaled on a green stick and roasted over 
the glowing embers. This and the remains 
of the parched zea completed his meal, after 


190 BIFF McCARTY 

which he made a cornucopia from the bark of 
a cottonwood tree, and, filling it with spar- 
kling water from the stream, he completed 
his meal. Collecting a supply of fallen wood 
to last during the night, he rolled himself in 
his buffalo robe and lay down to sleep, dis- 
couraged and disheartened at his ill success. 

''During the night a blizzard, most unu- 
sual for that time of year, came sweeping 
down upon him, wrapping the earth in 
a mantle of ice. He arose the next morning 
and found his buffalo robe stiffened with 
sleet. After breakfast, during which he con- 
sumed the last of the zea, he again started 
out for the object of his quest. 

"The glassy sheet of ice which covered the 
earth made traveling well-nigh impossible. 
While descending a hill, his footing gave 
away and he fell to the bottom, sustaining an 
injury to his left knee, which began to swell 
rapidly and caused him such pain that he 
could scarcely walk. 

"This was the final blow to his hopes. It 
seemed to make success out of the question. 
He determined to work his way back to the 
Maromeg River and follow its course for 


SCOUT MASTER^S STORY 191 

the sixty or more miles intervening between 
him and home. 

‘'Limping painfully along, he reached the 
river and in the limestone bluffs bordering 
the stream he saw the opening of a cave — 
the one which we ourselves explored. 

“The sky was still overcast. Cold, biting 
winds were blowing from the northwest, 
against which his buffalo robe afforded little 
protection. 

“He decided to pass the night in this cave, 
and with much effort he climbed up to its 
mouth, which he found, within a few feet, 
opened into a large cavern. In one of the 
deep, narrow recesses in the side wall of the 
cave he made his bed. Collecting some 
wood, he built a fire in a semicircle in front 
of this recess, broiled a prairie hen which he 
had shot for his supper, and as he was about 
to lie down in his improvised bed, he caught 
a glimpse of two points of light moving far 
back in the blackness of the cave. They 
shone like tiny, dull electric lights. He knew 
that they came from the eyes of some animal 
— he could not tell whether a panther, a wolf, 
or a wildcat. 


192 BIFF McCARTY 

‘‘Fixing an arrow in his bow, he took aim 
at the points of light and let it fly away into 
the darkness. He heard the clang of the 
arrow as it struck the rock floor of the cavern 
many yards beyond, and the lights disap- 
peared. 

“Fie knew that wild animals would not 
cross fire, so he left the cave and collected a 
quantity of dry fagots which he piled beside 
his bed, ready to replenish the fire through- 
out the night, and afford him protection 
against this unknown beast in the cave. 

“He rolled himself in his robe and tried 
to sleep, but the pain in his knee, his ill suc- 
cess in the hunt, and his present danger all 
combined to drive away sleep. 

“He replenished the fire again and again, 
and at some time during the night, wearied 
by his exertions of the day, he dropped off 
into a troubled sleep, from which he would 
awaken now and then with a start, replenish 
his fire, and lie down again. 

“At the first break of dawn he was up and 
on his journey, keeping a sharp lookout for 
small game which would supply him with 
breakfast. His progress was slow ; his cloth- 


SCOUT MASTER^S STORY 193 

ing torn to rags by the thorns and briers 
through which he had been compelled to 
force his way; his moccasins were cut to 
ribbons by the sharp flint rocks and the ice 
over which he had passed during the two 
preceding days. 

‘‘The clouds at last began to break and he 
could see the sunshine filtering intermit- 
tently through the scurrying clouds, which 
caused a great joy to arise in his heart and 
gave him renewed hope and courage. 

“All that day he traveled along the river 
bank and made camp under a sheltering bluff 
at night. The next morning he resumed his 
journey, and shortly afterward he was 
startled by a rushing sound in the under- 
brush ahead of him. Creeping cautiously 
forward, he peered through the woods and 
saw a buck running slowly and laboriously 
through a dry ravine which led down to the 
river. The buck suddenly fell, but with a 
mighty effort it regained its feet, and strug- 
gled to reach the river. He looked again, 
and as he looked, the deer swayed on trem- 
bling feet, then fell to the ground, and he saw 
the feathered end of an arrow sticking from 


194 BIFF McCARTY 

its side, while a stream of blood trickled 
down from the wound. The animal was 
making a desperate struggle to reach water. 
Again he staggered to his feet, went for- 
ward a few paces, and fell to his knees from 
sheer exhaustion. 

"Tonk-a rushed down the declivity and 
stood near the wounded buck, still coura- 
geous in the face of death and struggling to 
reach the stream which would quench the 
terrible thirst that was clutching at his 
throat. 

''Making a last mighty effort, the beast 
lifted himself to a half rising position and 
then fell over on his side. Tonk-a shouted 
with joy at his good fortune. Here was the 
buck whose skin he would carry back as evi- 
dence of his skill as a hunter. He pictured 
himself receiving the honor which had cost 
him days of pain and suffering. He fancied 
he could hear the plaudits of the tribe ring- 
ing in his ears. He felt that his fondest hope 
was about to be realized. Fixing an arrow 
to his bow, he hastened to the side of the 
prostrate buck and drew back the string to 
the full limit of his power, prepared to send 


SCOUT MASTER^S STORY 195 


the arrow into its vitals and give the death 
blow to the fallen animal. With trembling 
fingers he drew his bow and aimed it at the 
heart of the buck, when, like a flash, the 
thought rushed through his brain that such 
a conquest would not be his. It rightfully 
belonged to the unknown hunter whose 
arrow was already embedded in the animal. 

‘‘Relaxing his bow, he threw it on the 
ground and said aloud: ‘I am a chieftain’s 
son. I will not cheat by taking the skin 
from a fallen buck. It would not be my 
trophy.’ 

“Placing his left foot on the side of the 
wounded deer, he grasped the arrow with 
both hands and with a mighty effort drew it 
from the bleeding side and threw it far out 
into the river. With his hunting knife, he 
cut a long strip of bark from a cottonwood 
tree, and forming it into a cup, he ran down 
to the edge of the river, filled it with water 
and brought it to the stricken animal, which 
looked at him with pleading eyes, expressing 
both fright and gratitude. Again and again 
he replenished the cup until the animal would 
drink no more. 


196 BIFF McCARTY 

‘Ticking up his bow, he slowly resumed 
his journey. All that day and the next he 
traveled, sighting deer and elk in the dis- 
tance, but never able to get within range. 
Late in the afternoon of the following day 
he recognized as familiar land marks a bluff 
and a steepled rock in the river around which 
he had often fished, and he knew he was 
nearing home. Bitter chagrin and disap- 
pointment filled his soul as he realized he 
had been a failure, and he thought of the 
odium and reproaches which would be 
heaped upon him by the hunters of his tribe. 
He wondered what 0 -quin-taw would say. 
He could never look on his face again. He 
feared that his father would not give 
him another trial, and depressed by this 
thought he again plodded slowly toward 
home. 

“About dusk he veered to the right which 
brought him again to the bank of the stream, 
and sweeping it with his eye, he was sur- 
prised to see, not twenty yards away, a herd 
of deer standing calmly at the water's edge, 
drinking their fill. The leader of the herd 
was a magnificent buck, with great spread- 


SCOUT MASTER^S STORY 197 

ing, ten-pointed antlers, standing not far 
ahead of the does and fawns which accom- 
panied him. 

‘With trembling fingers he drew an 
arrow from his quiver, fixed it to his bow, 
and, standing behind the trunk of a gigantic 
oak, waited until the buck should turn and 
present a fair mark. 

“As he waited — it seemed hours to 
Tonk-a, but in reality it was only a few 
seconds — he trembled from head to foot, ex- 
periencing what is known as ‘buck ague,^ the 
nervous excitement of the inexperienced 
hunter encountering big game for the first 
time. 

“Presently the buck turned broadside 
toward Tonk-a, who murmured to himself, 
‘Tonk-a must be calm; Tonk-a must be 
strong; Tonk-a must shoot straight,’ and 
bending the bow to the limit of his strength, 
he let fly the arrow, which struck the buck 
full in the side just back of the shoulder and 
buried itself to the feather. With a mighty 
bound the buck took flight, followed by the 
frightened herd, and down the margin of the 
stream they dashed, up the shelving bank 


198 BIFF McCARTY 

and away through the forest until they were 
lost from view among the trees. 

‘Tonk-a ran down the bank and along the 
flat level over which the deer had passed and 
discovered blood. Following the track of the 
deer as rapidly as his injured knee would 
permit, he noticed that the drops of blood on 
the ground were closer together than they 
had been near the river; the speed of the 
animal was becoming slower. 

"^On he ran through the forest, anxious to 
reach the buck for another shot before dark- 
ness closed around him. The deer’s tracks 
told him that it had slowed down to a walk, 
and just beyond, they showed the animal had 
fallen to his knees, but, struggling, had re- 
gained his feet and staggered on. Another 
mile brought him within sight of the herd, 
which again bounded away through the for- 
est, leaving their fallen leader mortally 
wounded on the ground. Forgetting his 
injured knee in his excitement, Tonk-a ran 
toward it. Affixing another arrow to his 
bow, he shot it full into the heart of the 
mighty monarch of the forest, which quiv- 
ered and lay still. 


SCOUT MASTER^S STORY 199 

''Darkness had now fallen, and Tonk-a 
skinned the animal by the light of his camp 
fire, leaving attached the antlers which he cut 
away from the skull with his tomahawk. A 
feeling of exultation as well as peace came 
over him, and after he had spread out his 
trophy on the ground and had admired its 
beauty, he stood in the center of the skin, 
turned his face to the east and with arms 
uplifted toward heaven, prayed : 'Great 
Spirit, thou hast been good to me. Thou 
hast given me the courage, the strength, and 
the fortitude to become a hunter. Accept 
the thanks of thy son, who will always wor- 
ship and adore thee.^ 

"Tonk-a supped on broiled venison, after 
which he rolled himself in his buffalo robe, 
and with the deer skin tightly clasped in his 
arms, he soon dropped into a profound and 
refreshing sleep. 

"The next morning he returned to the 
river bank, which he followed in the direc- 
tion of home. It was late in the afternoon 
that he caught sight of the Indian village in 
the distance, and he raised his voice and sent 
forth the loud piercing cry which his sister 


200 BIFF McCARTY 

would recognize — 'Oo-wee-oo-wee ; oo-wee- 
oo-wee.’ In a moment there came back the 
clear, female treble of ‘Oo-wee-oo-wee,’ and 
he saw Tah-kee running with the speed of 
the wind to meet him. 

‘'She saw the skin and antlers over his 
shoulder and her heart bounded with joy at 
this evidence of his success. She threw her 
arms around his neck and covered his face 
and hands with kisses, while she murmured 
words of praise as she escorted him in tri- 
umph back to the village. 

“His mother folded him in her arms and 
wept tears of joy, while O-quin-taw looked 
proudly on his son and said, ‘Ugh! Tonk-a 
good hunter.’ 

“Tonk-a was visited by Nes-ni-ne-shu- 
ka-ah, the medicine man of the tribe, who 
bound up his swollen knee in a hot pack of 
leaves and herbs. 

“That evening a council of the warriors 
and hunters of the tribe was called in the 
great council lodge. They seated them- 
selves, cross-kneed, on the floor covered with 
skins, and after passing around the pipe, 
Kee-ton-ah, a subchief of the tribe, arose 


SCOUT MASTER^S STORY 201 

and said: 'Great Chief and Brothers, Tonk-a 
has to-day returned with the spoils of the 
chase which proved him to be a hunter. Let 
us give him welcome and accord him the 
honors of a hunter.’ 

"Now arose another subchief, Wa-wis-ka, 
who said: "Tonk-a has brought honor to our 
tribe. He is worthy to be numbered with our 
great hunters. Let us admit him to our cir- 
cle.’ 

"Every warrior flourished his tomahawk 
high above his head as a signal of approval. 

"Kee-ton-ah left the lodge and returned in 
a moment leading Tonk-a, who stood erect 
with folded arms, in the center of the circle. 
Kee-ton-ah ungirded his belt of wampum 
and affixed it around Tonk-a’s waist. Was- 
wis-ka took from his breast a necklace of 
bear claws and silently placed it around the 
neck of the boy. O-quin-taw, the head chief, 
plucked the red-eagle feather from the center 
of his crest and, walking solemnly to his son, 
he affixed it in the black hair of the boy and 
said, Tonk-a, my son, makes me proud.’ 

"Ever afterward Tonk-a was called 'Red 
Feather,’ under which title he achieved dis- 


202 BIFF McCARTY 


tinction as a mighty hunter and wise coun- 
selor, and finally he ruled the Ozaw Indians 
as their Big Chief/^ 

At the conclusion of the story Happy 
Holmes said, ''Gee, but I wish I was Tonk-a/^ 

"It’s time for bed, scouts,” announced Mr. 
Hudson. Turning to Toots Weaver, he 
ordered, "Blow taps in ten minutes,” and the 
boys turned in for the night, but not one of 
them dreamed of the thrilling experience 
which was destined to overtake them so soon. 


CHAPTER XV 
A Night of Excitement 

The troop had finished supper — and such 
a supper as they had — squirrel stew, baked 
potatoes, stewed corn and tomatoes, eggs, 
milk and cocoa, topped off with those famous 
griddle cakes, such as only Caesar knew how 
to make, smothered in white syrup. Their 
appetites were commensurate with their ac- 
tivities and would put to shame the appetites 
of an equal number of railroad section men. 
The cook detail usually grumbled at the 
enormous quantity of food they were re- 
quired to serve the troop, forgetting their 
own equal capacity, when their turn came. 

Caesar secretly rejoiced in this tribute to 
his culinary skill, but openly remarked, ‘^Dem 
scouts is holler clear down to der heels.’’ 

The meal finished, preparations were made 
for the camp-fire council. 

''Come on, let’s get some firewood,” said 
Bunny Brown to Happy Holmes. 

"I can’t go,” responded Happy, who was 
203 


204 BIFF McCARTY 

one of the cook detail for the day. 'Tve got 
to bathe the crockery. Say, Bunny, weVe 
got a new cook at our house and we call her 
Japan.^’ 

‘'Why do you call her Japan?’’ inquired 
Bunny. 

“ ’Cause she’s so hard on china,” chuckled 
Happy, with a broad grin. 

“Aw, cut out that comedy and get busy 
with your own china,” retorted Bunny. 

After a rousing camp-fire council, made 
up of the experiences of the day, songs, and 
stories of adventure, the troop retired to 
their tents. Low rumblings of thunder had 
been heard in the west all evening. The sky 
was illuminated now and then by flashes of 
lightning which increased in frequency and 
intensity as the evening progressed. After 
a particularly vivid flash of lightning, fol- 
lowed by a deafening clap of thunder, Boysey 
LeRoy and Dicky Byrd appeared at the door 
of the Scout Master’s tent and Boysey ques- 
tioned, “O, Chief, may we come in your tent 
to sleep? It’s lightning awful hard in our 
tent.” 

“Certainly you may, boys,” he responded. 


A NIGHT OF EXCITEMENT 205 

“Roll up in your blankets right along side 
of me here. There’s plenty of room.’’ 

After a short period of silence, Boysey 
whispered, '‘Say, Dicky, are you asleep?” 

“No, are you?” 

“No, I’m awake. I think it’s safer for us 
to be in here with Chief when it thunders so 
loud, don’t you?” 

“ ’Course I do.” 

“Quit talking, boys, and go to sleep,” came 
from Mr. Hudson. 

“Albright, we will,” answered the sleep 
disturbers. 

The lightning gradually decreased and the 
low rumbling of distant thunder indicated 
that the threatened storm might pass away. 
The stillness of the night settled around 
them, and the slow, regular breathing of 
Boysey and Dicky told Mr. Hudson that they 
were fast asleep. 

Soon a resumption of the distant thunder 
warned them that the storm had not passed 
around. The lightning flashed nearer and 
nearer, followed by claps of thunder which 
indicated the storm was drawing close. A 
great bank of black angry clouds pushed 


2 o 6 BIFF McCARTY 

themselves up out of the southwest toward 
the zenith. In a few minutes a strong wind 
— the forerunner of the storm — swept over 
them, shaking their tents with sudden fierce- 
ness. The tent stakes, however, firmly 
driven into the ground, held. In another 
moment large drops of rain began to splatter. 
Their frequency increased, and suddenly a 
deluge of rain poured down upon them. The 
wind subsided gradually as the rain in- 
creased. Vivid flashes of lightning blinded 
their eyes, while terrific thunder crashed and 
beat about their heads like the cannonading 
of battle. The rain was now falling in tor- 
rents — faster and faster it came — ^until it 
seemed a solid mass of water overflowing a 
milldam. As the hours passed the volume of 
falling water increased and the heavens 
opened their floodgates in a deluge. The 
roar of the falling sheets of water on the 
taut tents required conversation to be car- 
ried on in shouts. Sleep was impossible 
under such conditions. Electric pocket 
lamps were lighted in every tent, and the 
boys sat huddled together, drenched by the 
mist and spray which forced itself through 


A NIGHT OF EXCITEMENT 207 


the tent tops. A veritable cloudburst was 
on them, the like of which had not occurred 
in that locality in a generation. 

Mr. Hudson, in a slicker, with an electric 
searchlight in his hand, was out in the tor- 
rential rain intently watching what formerly 
had been a dry gully, near the base of the hill 
on which the camp was situated. Two tents 
stood not far from this water. Faster still 
the water rose, flooding the lowlands until it 
crept near the foot of the hill. The stream 
was now a mountain torrent, bearing up- 
rooted trees and driftwood, which rolled and 
tumbled in the swirling, angry current. 

The Scout Master ordered the occupants 
of the two lower tents to take their posses- 
sions in their arms and retreat twenty feet 
higher up the hill to the remaining tents. 
The scouts scurried to obey the command, 
and, grabbing armfuls of their belongings, 
dashed through the storm to the safety of 
the higher tents, but before they had gone 
half the distance, they were as drenched as 
if they had jumped into the creek. 

Returning for the articles left behind, they 
found the water already running in rivulets 


2o8 BIFF McCARTY 

through the tents they had so recently va- 
cated, and before they could complete their 
mission, a stream of water a foot deep was 
racing over the places which, a short time 
before, had been their beds. Retreating a 
few yards up hill, they stood in the pour- 
ing rain — unable to get any wetter — and 
watched the raging, swirling torrent rush- 
ing by their feet, illuminated intermittently 
by vivid flashes of lightning. 

It was a weird, terrifying scene which met 
their gaze, and it filled them with awe as 
they realized the irresistible power of the 
mighty volume of water sweeping every- 
thing in, its path. The lightning now in- 
creased in intensity. Great forked streaks 
of blinding light split the sky. The thunder 
roared and crashed about their heads. Mr. 
Hudson was returning from the flooded tent 
with a steel spade in his hand. On his way 
up the hill he passed under a tall oak, when 
a blinding, searing flash of lightning struck 
the tree. It was like a huge ball of white fire 
shot downward from the mouth of the celes- 
tial cannon. He fell prostrate in his tracks. 
The rest of the troop were thrown to the 


A NIGHT OF EXCITEMENT 209 

ground — stunned, dazed. How long they 
lay they did not know. Biff was the first one 
up. He staggered to his feet and said 
weakly, ‘'Is anybody hurt?^’ He rubbed his 
eyes. His ears were ringing. Gradually the 
members of the troop regained their feet 
and their wits. With returning senses they 
began to ask each other, “Are you hurt?'' 
“No, are you?" came the quick replies. 

“Where's the Chief?" asked Biff. 

No one replied, and Biff, remembering 
where he had seen him last, started on a run 
toward the flooded tent. As he came near 
the giant oak, a flash of lightning revealed 
Mr. Hudson lying on his back in the pool of 
water which had formed at its base. He 
grabbed him in his arms and drew him 
higher up. 

“Are you hurt, Chief ?" the boy asked. 

There was no response from the pallid 
lips. His white, drawn face bore the mask 
of death. His head rolled limply to one 
side. Holding his head in his lap. Biff 
shouted, "Boys, come quick. Mr. Hudson's 
killed!" 

The troop rushed to the spot where their 


210 BIFF McCARTY 

stricken chief lay, and willing hands lifted 
him tenderly. 

'Take him to headquarters tent/^ com- 
manded Biff. 

He was quickly carried to the tent and 
placed on his cot. 

"Now, throw the blankets on the floor. 
Put him on them. Quick!’’ Biff ordered. 
While the unconscious form of Mr. Hudson 
was being laid on the floor Biff removed his 
slicker and tore open his shirt at his neck. 

"He’s dead,” whispered the boys in awe- 
stricken tones. 

"We got to try to bring him to,” an- 
nounced Biff, sharply, as he placed himself 
on his knees astride the body. "Curly, you 
and Bunny work his arms. Dinky and 
Dutch, you two work his legs.” 

They began their efforts at resuscitation 
by drawing up his arms and legs in unison, 
and as they were lowered. Biff pressed with 
both hands the lower ribs of the patient to 
expel the air. This process was repeated 
with regular, rhythmic motions, sixteen 
times to the minute, in imitation of breath- 
ing, as Biff called, "Up-down-up-down.” 


A NIGHT OF EXCITEMENT 211 

Steadily the boys worked in their effort to 
restore their chief to life, while the others 
looked on in sorrowful silence. 

‘'Deacon, the medicine case. Get am- 
monia capsules,’’ curtly ordered Biff. 

The command was obeyed with alacrity. 

“Now, crush one; hold it under his nose,” 
he continued. 

The stimulant produced no appreciable 
effect. 

The four boys continued to work his arms 
and legs in unison with the regular “Up- 
down-up-down” call of Biff, until they were 
on the point of exhaustion. As Biff noticed 
their slackening pace he directed four other 
scouts to relieve them. There was still no 
sign of life in the body. His face was 
shrouded with the pallor of death. Buddy 
Ruddy exclaimed, “He’s dead,” and sobbing 
violently rushed to his tent, where he threw 
himself on his cot in an uncontrollable fit of 
weeping. Tears trickled down many faces 
and half-suppressed sobs were heard from 
every part of the tent as they saw the heroic 
efforts of their comrades were producing 
no results. 


212 BIFF McCARTY 

The call of Biff’s voice, ''Up-down-up- 
down” continued with the regularity of clock- 
work. 

"It’s no use,” whispered Fuzzy, swallow- 
ing hard at a lump in his throat. "He’s 
gone.” 

The droning voice calling "Up-down-up- 
down” was still heard between the intermit- 
tent claps of thunder. 

"More ammonia,” interrupted Biff, with 
a nod of his head toward Deacon Parsons. 
As the stimulant was applied under the 
nostrils. Biff noticed a faint twitching of the 
eyelids. In another moment Mr. Hudson 
wearily opened his eyes, and his first vision 
was Biff’s face smiling down sympatheti- 
cally into his own. 

"You’re all right. Chief,” said Biff, 
cheerily. 

Mr. Hudson looked about him with dazed, 
tired eyes and inquired, faintly: "What’s 
the matter, boys? Am I sick?” 

"Yes,” responded the boy, "but you’re 
’most well now.” 

The color began to creep back into the 
patient’s face, his breathing became regular 


A NIGHT OF EXCITEMENT 213 

and normal, and complete return to con- 
sciousness soon followed. 

The path of the electric stroke was well 
defined down his left cheek, neck, and breast 
which were seared and burned by the electric 
fluid. 

‘'Now, fellows,’’ said McCarty, “lift him 
back on his cot.” 

When this had been done they dressed and 
bandaged his burns and covered him with 
many blankets, for he was complaining of 
cold — due to nervous reaction. 

Bil¥ went to the medicine case and re- 
turned with a vial from which he poured a 
tablespoonful in a glass, mixing it with 
water. After the Scout Master had drunk 
it he lay back on his pillow with heightening 
color in his face. 

The pall of gloom had been lifted from the 
boys. Every face was now shining with 
thankfulness and rejoicing as they discussed 
in excited tones his marvelous return to life. 

“I’m glad Biff was here when it hap- 
pened,” said Deacon Parsons. 

“I would have given up long ago, if it 
hadn’t been for Biff,” added Bunny. 


214 BIFF McCARTY 

feel happy enough to sing/* shouted 
Curly Coover. 

^'Don’t/^ admonished Biff, and added, 
''Everybody to bed now and lights out in five 
minutes/’ 

The boys obeyed unhesitatingly — an un- 
conscious tribute to Biff’s natural qualities 
of leadership. 

The rainfall had gradually lessened and 
settled into a steady downpour. The light- 
ning had diminished in intensity and fre- 
quency, while the roar of the retreating 
thunder from the northeast told them the 
storm was passing. It was two o’clock when 
the damp, soggy mass of scouts closed their 
eyes in sleep and Biff took his place as nurse, 
to stand watch over his chief throughout the 
long, silent hours of the morning. 


CHAPTER XVI 
The Football Game 

It was a pleasant Saturday morning in 
late October. Biff was anticipating the joy 
of the big football game scheduled for the 
afternoon, and the hours dragged slowly 
along. There was a lull in his work in the 
law office and he tried to read the history of 
England, but after two attempts, he threw 
the book on his desk and looked out the 
window. Signals and formations raced 
through his brain. He was eager to get into 
the fray. Eleven o^clock struck and then 
twelve. It was now nearly one, the time at 
which the office closed on Saturdays for a 
half-holiday. A client, Mr. Kennerly, came 
into the anteroom and was ushered into Mr. 
Hudson’s private office, where he handed to 
his attorney one thousand dollars in currency 
as the first payment on a purchase of real 
estate. Mr. Hudson placed the money — 
fifty crisp, new bills each of twenty-dollar 

denomination — in a long envelope, sealed it, 
215 


2 i 6 BIFF McCARTY 

and wrote across its face, ^‘$i,ooo to be paid 
to City Realty Co., for account of Wm. Ken- 
nerly.’^ He placed the package in his safe 
and locked the combination by a twirl of the 
knob on the dial. It was too late to deposit 
the money in his bank, as the banks closed at 
noon on Saturdays. The clock was striking 
one as Mr. Kennerly departed. Biff removed 
his office coat, hung it in its customary place 
in the closet, and, donning his street coat, 
left the office. In a short time the other occu- 
pants followed him. Mr. Hudson, the last 
to leave, turned the key in the door as he 
went out and placed it in his pocket. 

Troop No. 20 had gained a local reputa- 
tion for great prowess in football and track 
athletics. The troop was divided into two 
football teams — the Scout team and the 
''scrubs.’’ Curly Coover captained the 
former, while Jigs Young was in command 
of the latter. The Scout team had met and 
conquered every opposing team that season, 
except the strong Burrows Academy team, 
which they battled to a tie in a bruising con- 
test. Only one other team of their class 
remained and that was the famous Scout 


THE FOOTBALL GAME 217 

team of Troop No. i, the oldest troop in the 
city and one which had achieved an enviable 
reputation in football. Biff McCarty had 
played right tackle for the scrubs until he 
was familiar with the rules, signals, and 
formations of the game, but only once had he 
played on the Scout team and that was 
against Burrows Academy, when he was put 
in during the last quarter to take the place of 
Red Parker, who had been hammered and 
battered until the opponents began to tear 
great holes through his end of the line. So 
well did he acquit himself in these few min- 
utes of play that he earned the right to play 
his position on the regulars. It was with a 
feeling of pride that he heard the Scout 
Master announce, at the meeting of the troop 
the evening before the big game with Troop 
No. I, that his name was included in the 
regular line up. The team had been trained 
by Mr. Hudson, who was an old football 
man — a former star half back on his Varsity 
team — and he instilled into his boys all 
his fighting spirit and knowledge of the 
game. 

The troop met at two-thirty oVlock Satur- 


2 i 8 BIFF McCARTY 

day afternoon and fell in line, with the Amer- 
ican flag and the troop colors at their head, 
and marched away to the City Park football 
field, where the game was scheduled to take 
place. The drummer beat a lively rat-a-tat- 
tat as they marched down the street, while 
the bugler was blowing reveille to express 
his exuberant emotions. Happy Holmes 
said, 'Tt will wake up the people and let them 
know the big football game of the year is 
on.^’ 

Arriving at the field, t\\ey found the side 
lines massed with hundreds of scouts and 
more arriving every minute. It seemed as 
if all the troops in the city were present for 
this event. Many schoolboys and girls and 
scores of parents were there, ready to wit- 
ness the battle. On one side the Boy Scout 
Band discoursed martial music for the enter- 
tainment of the crowd until play should be 
called. Still the rooters continued to arrive. 
Automobiles and carriages filled with people 
flanked the crowd surrounding the field. 
Troop No. 2o’s eleven was given a final word 
of advice by Coach Hudson and then ran on 
the gridiron; the remainder of the troop 


THE FOOTBALL GAME 219 


took up positions on the side line, ready to 
act as substitutes if required. As soon as 
the team entered the field they were greeted 
by cheer after cheer from the spectators ; and 
the players began to run through signals at 
one end of the field. 

Their line-up was as follows: 

Left End, Bunny Brown. 

Left Tackle, Scotty McGregor. 

Left Guard, Skinny Ford. 

Center, Fatty Brooks. 

Right Guard, Teddy Clark. 

Right Tackle, Biff McCarty. 

Right End, Girlie Carpenter. 

Quarter Back, Captain Curly Coover. 

Left Half Back, Toots Weaver. 

Right Half Back, Fuzzy Markham. 

Full Back, Deacon Parsons. J 

Presently the team of Troop No. i made 
its appearance at the opposite end of the field, 
and they too received a hearty welcome from 
the throats of their many admirers. Scout 
Master Hinckly had been selected as referee. 
Scout Master Burleson as umpire, and Mr. 
McGrath as head linesman. Captain Coover 
won the toss and decided to kick off to his 
opponents. His men lined across the field 
ready to run down the kick while No. I’s 


220 BIFF McCARTY 

team spread themselves out in their territory 
ready to catch the pigskin. 

A shiver went through Biff. A score of 
doubts and misgivings flashed through his 
mind. What if he should fail? What if his 
mistakes should cause his team to lose the 
game? A cold chill ran up and down his 
spinal column. The eleven of Troop No. i 
were big, husky fellows who had the reputa- 
tion of being terrors on the gridiron. His 
attention was called back to the game by 
the clear, reassuring voice of Captain Coover, 
who flung out, ''Now, eat ’em up, fellows.” 
He set his teeth and nerved himself for the 
test, as he said under his breath, "Fll make 
them guys know Fm in the game.” 

The referee blew his whistle and Fuzzy 
Markham kicked off, smashing the toe of his 
right shoe against the ball which went soar- 
ing down the field, while their ends raced 
down under the ball ready to tackle the player 
who made the catch. 

The ball was caught by the left half on 
their twenty-five-yard line and quickly their 
interference formed and began a dash up the 
field, which landed them on their forty-five- 


THE FOOTBALL GAME 221 


yard line before the runner carrying the ball 
was downed. The team lined down and 
Captain Barclay of Troop No. i called off the 
signal for a line plunge through right tackle, 
BifTs position, as he was the green man on 
the team. If this inexperienced player could 
be rattled, they would make a hole through 
his end which would net them good gains. 
Like a huge wave of water the backs plunged 
down on No. 20’s right wing, centering their 
assault on Biff, for a gain of ten yards. 
Again Captain Barclay ordered the assault 
repeated, this time for a gain of three yards. 
Encouraged in the belief that Biff was the 
weak point in the line which must soon give 
way, and thinking to outwit the enemy by 
doing the obvious thing, a third buck was 
directed against the same spot. With a 
mighty effort Biff bowled over the interfer- 
ence and with a spring like a tiger he tackled 
the half back, carrying the ball and downed 
him for a loss of two yards. The opposition 
was held for downs and the ball was now No. 
2 o’s on their own forty-four-yard line. 

They now began a series of line plunges 
which met with stubborn resistance from the 


222 BIFF McCARTY 

enemy, who soon showed that they could play 
a strong defensive game. Making no prog- 
ress against the heavier team at straight 
football, Captain Coover called the signal for 
Biff to take a forward pass. Carpenter 
stepped back of the line as Fatty Brooks, the 
center, snapped the ball back to Coover, who 
made a beautiful throw to Biff, now racing 
down the field. He closed his arms around 
it, when — horrors ! — it slipped from his 
fingers like a peeled onion and into the arms 
of No. I's left end, who raced past him 
with the speed of the wind, eluding the play- 
ers of No. 20 before they could recover from 
their astonishment, bowling over an interfer- 
ence here and dodging another there, until 
he sped over the goal line and fell on the ball 
for a touchdown. Captain Barclay kicked 
goal a few seconds before the first quarter 
ended. Score: Troop i — 7; Troop 20 — o. 

Biff was horror-stricken by his mistake. 
His error seemed to his boyish mind to loom 
mountain high and to hang over his head like 
some hideous, black monster ready to wreak 
vengeance upon him. He fancied he could 
hear the censure of his team mates and could 


THE FOOTBALL GAME 223 

see their menacing glances in his direction. 
He thought he could feel the breath of their 
contempt blowing in his face. He believed 
he was disgraced in the estimation of the 
entire troop. What would Mr. Hudson say ? 
He could never face him again ! His morti- 
fication and shame oppressed him like an 
awful nightmare. It could not be a reality. 
It must be all a hideous mistake. A voice 
was speaking in his ear. He looked up and 
heard Markham saying, with a sneer on his 
lips and a scowl on his face, ‘T told them 
you had a yellow streak in you ; now I know 
it.'’ 

A rush of blood surged to Biff's face, as 
his anger mastered him. All the combative- 
ness of his nature was aroused. He clenched 
his ’fist and raised his right arm, ready for 
a blow. With a mighty effort he regained 
his self-control, lowered his arm and re- 
sponded tensely, with suppressed emotion, 
^^No, Fuzzy, Tm not yellow," and turned to 
walk off the field. He was met by Captain 
Coover, who put his arm around his shoulder 
and said, quietly: ''Don't worry, Biff; I've 
done the same thing myself. We'll eat 'em 


224 BIFF McCARTY 

up in the next quarter/’ Tears welled up in 
Biff’s eyes and a great lump arose in his 
throat which choked him and prevented him 
answering his Captain. He gulped a few 
times, attempted to speak, but could not, then 
turned on his heel, walked over to Coach 
Hudson and stammered, ‘Tut Red in my 
place.” 

“Don’t let a little thing like that worry 
you,” answered Mr. Hudson. “You take it 
too much to heart. You were overanxious 
— that’s all. Your nervousness will disap- 
pear in the next period. I know you will 
make good. Cheer up, my boy, you are doing 
all right.” 

Biff mumbled a “Thank you,” and hurried 
away; and out of the depths of his subcon- 
scious mind arose a powerful determination 
to retrieve his error. It formulated itself 
into these words as he walked along : “I will 
make good. I will make good. I will make 
good.” 

The second quarter of the game began 
with a grim determination on the part of No. 
2o’s team to score a touchdown at all haz- 
ards. The eleven of Troop No. i knew that 


THE FOOTBALL GAME 225 

the game was won with their present lead, 
if they could maintain their defense, but they 
were anxious to pile up their score still 
higher to make victory certain. After the 
kick off, the punt was returned to No. 20^s 
forty-yard line. On the second down. 
Weaver made six yards through center, 
which was followed with three more by 
Markham. The eleven continued rushing 
until they were exhausted by the stubborn 
resistance offered by their opponents and 
they were held for downs. The heavier team 
of No. I now began a series of line plunges 
which netted them small gains. So the tide 
of battle ebbed and flowed, now in the terri- 
tory of No. 20 and now on No. I’s end of the 
gridiron. It was a fast, fierce, gruelling con- 
test, and when the whistle blew, the pigskin 
was on the eight-yard line of Troop No. 20 
which had been slowly driven back, in spite 
of their desperate resistance. 

The third quarter began fiercely, with No. 
2o’s team using every ounce of their strength 
in an effort to score a touchdown. After 
some minutes of rough play, a tandem was 
tried through No. I’s left tackle. The play 


226 BIFF McCARTY 

was anticipated by the enemy and broken up 
without the gain of a yard. But the impact 
of the two lines was terrific and when the 
mass of piled-up players had slowly sepa- 
rated themselves, Biff was found at the 
bottom of the pile, lying on his back, with a 
long cut over his left eye, where a shoe cleat 
had ripped a gash, and his nose was bleeding 
profusely. He was assisted to his feet, dazed 
and groggy. After his face had been 
sponged off he still wabbled on his feet. 
Then Coach Hudson ordered, ^'Biff, go to 
the side line — Red Parker will take your 
place.’^ 

The command acted like an electric shock 
on the boy. He straightened up and said, 
"‘O, please, Mr. Hudson, don’t take me out. 
Fm all right. It’s nothing but a scratch. 
Give me one more chance — just one more.” 

While Mr. Hudson was dressing the cut 
over Biff’s eye the wonderful recuperative 
power of youth asserted itself, the boy’s 
strength returned, and his urgent pleading 
to be allowed to continue in the game induced 
Mr. Hudson to permit him to remain a little 
longer. 


THE FOOTBALL GAME 227 

After time had been taken out, they lined 
down again. When No. 20 had lost the ball 
on downs, the enemy, tired of straight line 
plunges, which had proven unsuccessful, 
resorted to the forward pass. The ball was 
snapped to the quarterback, who made a long 
pass to their left end, racing at top speed. 
The ball was partly intercepted by Girlie 
Carpenter, who diverted the direction of the 
ball sufficiently to cause the left end to fumble 
it. It rolled from the tips of his fingers and 
struck the ground, and Bifif, quick as a 
panther, gathered it up in one sweeping mo- 
tion of his arms and sped away, upsetting 
their left guard and dodging the half with 
the quickness of a rabbit. On he dashed 
toward the goal line. Only the full back 
stood between him and victory. On he went 
like a locomotive, running with head down 
and legs working like pistons. The full back 
rushed to tackle him with the desperation 
born of despair. He flung himself viciously 
at Biff, who swerved to the right to avoid 
the impact of the tackle. He felt the vise-like 
fingers of the full back clutching at his hips 
and legs, trying to snatch victory from his 


228 BIFF McCARTY 

grasp. With a quick wrench of his body 
toward the right, Biff turned the hold of the 
full back until his opponent was stretched out 
full length behind him, clinging like a leech. 
Biff was still running, dragging this terrible 
weight behind him. On he tore, with set 
teeth and flashing eyes, using every ounce of 
his magnificent strength, and step by step 
the coveted goal drew nearer. The half 
backs, who had been racing down the field, 
were almost upon him, handicapped as he 
was by the bull-dog hold and great weight 
of the full back. 

‘TVe got to make it,’’ said Biff through 
clenched teeth, and calling all his reserve 
strength into play, he put on a final burst 
of speed, which sent him, dragging his oppo- 
nent behind him, over the goal line, where he 
fell on the ball for a touchdown, just as the 
enemy’s backs reached him. 

Prolonged cheers from the spectators 
greeted this spectacular feat, which rang 
like music in the ears of the right tackle. 
Coover slapped him on the back and said en- 
couragingly, ''You’re all right, old man.” 

The ball was set for the goal kick and 


THE FOOTBALL GAME 229 

Captain Coover sank his toe into the pigskin. 
It rose, sailed high and veered to the left of 
the goal posts, missing goal by a foot. 

''O ! too bad, too bad,'’ came a chorus of 
disappointed groans from the rooters. The 
anguish of Curly was keen and poignant at 
his failure to tie the score, but he set his 
teeth and looked as if he wanted to call him- 
self names. Biff put his arm around his 
captain's shoulder and whispered, ‘'Don't 
mind. Curly ; we'll beat 'em yet." Soon after- 
ward the whistle blew and the quarter ended. 
Score: Troop i — 7; Troop 20 — 6. 

In the final period. Girlie Carpenter, right 
end, and Teddy Clark, right guard, ex- 
hausted by the gruelling contest, were 
replaced by Red Parker and Slim Anderson, 
respectively. 

The early part of this quarter was devoted 
to continuous line plunges, with the ball be- 
ing carried back and forth, but neither side 
was able to score. Finally the enemy sprang 
a surprise with a new formation. It was the 
“left tandem," consisting of the left half, the 
full back, and the right half in the order 
named, back of the left tackle ; the right end 


230 BIFF McCARTY 

went over to the left end. As the ball was 
about to be put into play Captain Coover 
warned, ''Biff, take care of the man with the 
ball in that wedge.’’ 

"Signal,” called the opposing quarter- 
back. "Sixteen-thirty-eight-nine-fourteen- 
seven-ten” — the ball was snapped and passed 
to the right half and the tandem instantly 
crashed forward. Their objective point was 
Biff, who they thought was weakened by his 
injuries and exhausted by his mighty efforts 
in the previous period. But Biff outwitted 
them by stepping quickly back of and around 
his right end and then he came down quar- 
tering on the right half who was carrying 
the ball, and tackled him like a bull charging 
a red flag. He hit the half back squarely and 
low, with all the power of which his muscular 
body was capable. The half back reeled 
from this fierce and unexpected tackle, the 
force of which jostled the pigskin from his 
arms. Biff intuitively clutched it as it re- 
bounded from the ground. With one wild 
leap, he struck his stride and, with a clear 
field before him, raced down the field with 
his opponents trailing in pursuit — striving 


THE FOOTBALL GAME 231 

with every nerve to catch the speedy runner. 
On he sprinted, determined to retrieve the 
mistake he made in the first quarter ; but the 
opposing quarter back, with a great reputa- 
tion as a sprinter, was right on his heels, 
striving with might and main to catch him. 
Biff could feel his fingers clutching at his 
back. He feared a tackle which he knew 
would prevent a touchdown. He gritted his 
teeth and, with a mighty effort, summoned 
every ounce of his strength and put forth a 
burst of speed like a whirlwind and tore over 
the line for his second touchdown of the 
game. All of the members of his team show- 
ered him with congratulations, except Fuzzy 
Markham, who withheld comment and 
averted his gaze when Biff^s eyes met his. 
Bitter pangs of jealousy tore Markham’s 
soul. He said to himself that Biff’s touch- 
downs were flukes — that he was a much 
better player than Biff, and that^if he had 
had the same opportunities he would have 
made three touchdowns instead of two. He 
secretly rejoiced in Biff’s muff, which had 
given their opponents their only score of the 
game. 


232 


BIFF McCARTY 


Captain Coover kicked a beautiful goal 
just before the whistle blew announcing the 
end of the game. Score: Troop 20 — 13; 
Troop I — 7. 

The spectators cheered and cheered with 
great waves of sound which swelled and 
rose and fell and rose again. Horns were 
blown and flags and pennants were waved 
until pandemonium seemed to have broken 
loose. The members of Troop No. 20, on 
the side lines, voiced their approval with 
whoops and yells and hammering each other 
on the back in their wild, unrestrained en- 
thusiasm. The Boy Scout band played “See 
the Conquering Hero Comes.’’ The victo- 
rious eleven picked up Biff, protesting vigor- 
ously, and placed him on their shoulders and 
carried him off the field in triumph. He was 
the hero of the game, and the victory of his 
eleven was conceded by everyone to be due 
to his star playing. 


CHAPTER XVII 


Biff Is Under a Cloud 

Biff reached the office Monday morning 
at the usual hour. The plaudits of the 
crowds at the football game were still ring- 
ing in his ears. The praise of his compan- 
ions pleased him still more. He had the con- 
sciousness of having made good. He felt 
satisfied and at peace with all the world. He 
removed his coat, replaced it with his office 
coat and took his place at his desk to begin 
the work of the day. He heard Mr. Hudson 
go to the safe and turn the combination. In 
a moment he heard the click of the bolts as 
they shot back from their sockets. Mr. 
Hudson turned the handle and swung open 
the door. Presently he heard him give a 
little gasp of surprise, as he exclaimed, ‘The 
money’s gone!” 

Miss Dodson, Mr. Clarke, and Biff rushed 
into his office while Mr. Hudson continued, 
‘T placed one thousand dollars in the safe 
233 


234 BIFF McCARTY 

Saturday before I left and locked the safe. 
Now, it’s gone.’’ 

The statement of the others that they knew 
nothing of its disappearance did not solve 
the mystery. Finally Biff suggested, ^^Sup- 
pose I ’phone police headquarters and have 
them send a detective here.” 

^‘Do so,” assented Mr. Hudson. 

Not long afterward a central office detec- 
tive appeared and was told the circumstances 
concerning the money and its disappearance. 
He made a careful examination of the safe, 
the door, and windows. There was not even 
a mark or a scratch on the safe to indicate 
it had been tampered with. He scrutinized 
the floor near the safe and the door. Turn- 
ing to Mr. Hudson, he inquired, “Who has 
a key to the office door, besides yourself ?” 

“My clerk. Biff McCarty, carries the other 
key,” replied Mr. Hudson. 

“Does anyone, except yourself, know the 
combination to the safe ?” 

“Yes,” answered Mr. Hudson, “Biff 
knows it.” 

“Call him in here,” requested the officer. 
“This job was not done by an outsider.” 


BIFF IS UNDER A CLOUD 235 


Mr. Hudson was reluctant to call his clerk, 
in whom he had the greatest confidence, but 
finally, after repeated demands by the insist- 
ent detective, he opened the door and said, 
^'Bifif, step here a moment, please.’’ 

The boy stepped into the room and without 
preliminaries, the officer began, ‘‘You’ve got 
a key to the door of this office, ain’t you?” 

“Yes, sir,” answered the boy. 

“How long have you carried it?” 

“About six months.” 

“And you know the combination to the 
safe, don’t you ?” questioned the officer. 

“Certainly,” was the ready admission. 

“Were you in this office between Saturday 
afternoon and this morning?” blurted out 
the detective. 

The imputation of guilt contained in the 
question caused a flood of red to mantle Biff’s 
face as he responded hotly, “No, sir, I wasn’t. 
Do you think ” 

“Keep your temper, young man. Gettin’ 
mad won’t prove your innocence,” retorted 
his inquisitor. 

“Of course I’m innocent,” exclaimed the 
boy. “Don’t you dare to ” 


BIFF McCARTY 


236 

“Well, if you are, you won’t object to my 
searchin’ you, will you ?” broke in the detec- 
tive. 

‘'Go ahead/’ returned Biif instantly, hold- 
ing up his arms. 

The officer ran his hands in the boy’s 
pocket and drew out a knife, some keys, and 
a purse. A lead pencil and fountain pen 
came next, followed by a handkerchief. He 
then dived into Biffi’s coat pocket and 
brought forth a crumpled envelope. He 
unfolded it to its full length and on it he 
read the words, “$1,000.00 to be paid to City 
Realty Co., for account of Wm. Kennedy.” 

“Is that your handwriting?” asked the 
secret service man, flashing the empty en- 
velope in Mr. Hudson’s face. 

The lawyer gave it a glance and sank back 
in his chair, with face averted, as he slowly 
murmured, “Yes.” 

“There’s the thief,” said the detective, 
pointing his finger in Biff’s face. 

“No, no, I didn’t do it,” protested the boy. 
“It’s some terrible mistake. I’m not a thief.” 

“Then how did the envelope come to be in 
your pocket?” argued the man. 


BIFF IS UNDER A CLOUD 237 

don’t know,” responded Biff. ^^All I 
know is — I am not guilty. I didn’t do it. I 
didn’t steal the money.” 

The detective turned to Mr. Hudson and 
asked, “Shall I lock him up?” 

“No,” replied the lawyer, quickly. “I can’t 
believe Biff is a thief.” 

“Well, what did you bring me here for, 
then ?” snarled the detective. “I’ve found the 
criminal, but if you won’t prosecute him. I’ll 
go on about my business.” 

“Go,” said Mr. Hudson. “I will attend to 
the boy myself.” 

As the officer passed out the door. Biff 
sank into a chair and, covering his face with 
his hands, sobbed as if his heart would break. 
Events had moved with a quickness which 
left both of them dazed. Mr. Hudson sat 
silent, his brow lined with deep thought. 

It was Biff who at last broke the agoniz- 
ing silence: “Mr. Hudson, believe me — I 
didn’t do it — my brain’s in a whirl — I can’t 
think — give me a chance — I’ll prove my 
innocence.” 

Mr. Hudson arose from his chair and laid 
his hand sympathetically on the boy’s 


238 BIFF McCARTY 

shoulder, as he said in quiet, earnest tones, 
''Biff, I know you are honest. Circumstan- 
tial evidence is against you, but I still believe 
in you.’^ 

The boy seized his hand and wrung it in 
token of his gratitude, as he swallowed hard 
at a great lump in his throat, but could not 
speak. Then, snatching up his hat, he rushed 
from the office, down the elevator and into 
the street, where he caught the first car which 
approached — bound he knew not whither — 
and rode until the end of the line was 
reached. He left the car and headed for the 
country, alternately walking and running 
with feverish steps, until finally he came to 
a woods, into which he plunged. He wanted 
to hide himself from every human eye. 
Everyone believed him to be a thief. His 
brain was reeling with a riot of jumbled 
impressions. A thousand thoughts clashed 
and rendered reasoning futile. As he walked 
still deeper into the woods, the solitude of his 
surroundings and the cool air blowing in his 
face calmed his brain and his reasoning be- 
came more rational. At last he threw him- 
self on a log and with an effort he sought to 


BIFF IS UNDER A CLOUD 239 

analyze the situation which oppressed him 
like a horrible dream. He recalled vaguely 
the incriminating events of the morning. 

How did the envelope get in his pocket? 
This was the unanswerable question which 
burned in his brain and seared it like a 
white-hot iron. For hours he struggled with 
the question, but no solution appeared. The 
sun was slanting low over the western tree- 
tops when he arose and started back to the 
city. He re-entered the car he had left that 
morning and alighted when he found him- 
self at the skyscraper in which he worked. 

He entered his office. It was deserted, ex- 
cept for the presence of the janitress, who 
was sweeping and dusting. 

''Well, Biff,’' she greeted him, "I hear you 
had a robbery.” 

"Yes,” answered the boy, as he flung him- 
self into a chair in a spirit of utter dejection. 

"Have you caught the thief yet?” 

Biff sat silent. He was in no mood for 
conversation — least of all on the subject 
which had crazed his brain for the last eight 
hours. He looked about the room in a dis- 
tracted manner, not knowing what he sought. 


240 BIFF McCARTY 

His eye rested on a button lying on the floor 
near the safe. He picked it up languidly, 
examined it, and threw it in the wastepaper 
basket and resumed his seat, while the 
woman stood with broom and duster in hand, 
looking on. In another moment he searched 
the basket, rescued the button and studied it 
intently. It was a saucer-shaped coat but- 
ton made of bone, brown in color with 
peculiar mottled green spots. He pulled out 
his purse and placed the button in it. He 
went to the safe and began to search its face 
for a clue, but without success. His eyes 
scanned the floor, near the edge of the rug 
which occupied the center of the room, and 
there he discovered the imprint of a heel- 
five faint shoe-nail impressions in a line and 
a sixth a little to the right. He quickly went 
to the closet and, dropping on his knees be- 
fore the door, he found the imprint of the 
same heel in the wood. 

He arose to his feet and began to question 
the janitress. 

‘‘Did you see anyone here Saturday after- 
noon?^' 

‘‘Yes," replied the woman. “A man called 


BIFF IS UNDER A CLOUD 241 

about two o'clock while I was cleanin' up, 
and asked for Mr. Hudson." 

‘'What did you say?" 

“I told him the office closed for the day at 
one o'clock, but he could see him after nine 
o'clock Monday mornin'." 

“What did he say?" questioned Biff. 

“He stood a while looking about the office 
and finally said, ‘I'll come back Monday,' and 
then he left." 

“What kind of a looking man was he?" 

“He was a short man, smooth shaven, with 
dark eyes and hair, had a scar on his lip, and 
dressed in a suit of brown clothes. I think 
he wore a soft brown hat." 

“Anyone with him?" 

“No, he was alone." 

“Did you see anyone about the office after 
that?" 

“No," she replied. 

With a parting “Thank you," Biff left the 
office and started for home. As he walked 
slowly and thoughtfully along, this question 
arose in his mind, “What would the morrow 
bring forth ?" He could answer the question 
only with a groan of despair. 


CHAPTER XVIII 
A Mystery Is Solved 

Biff reached home and took his seat at the 
supper table, making a bold appearance of 
eating, but his appetite was gone. The food 
choked him. He pushed back his chair and 
arose. Mother Berger questioned, ^'What’s 
the matter. Biff — are you ill 

‘‘No, mother,’’ replied the boy, “I am in 
trouble. I can’t explain it now, but I will 
soon. Don’t worry about me. I am going 
down to Clifton Street, but you need not wait 
up for me.” He kissed her fondly and left 
the house. 

Turning into Clifton Street, he encoun- 
tered Officer Hagerty, who greeted him, 
“Hello! Biff. I don’t see much of ye these 
days. Where have ye bin kapin’ yerself ?” 

“I am living on Cottage Street now,” re- 
turned the boy. “Say,” he continued, “have 
you heard anything of Big Bill lately?” 

“I see him every day,” was the startling 
answer. 


242 


A MYSTERY IS SOLVED 243 

‘‘Why, how is that? I thought you were 
looking for him — for blowing the safe at the 
lumber office,’^ exclaimed the astonished boy. 

“No,’’ replied Hagerty. “Ye see it’s like 
this. After Black Ben give his pals in the 
job away, he was taken to court, where he 
pleaded guilty an’ was given two years in the 
pen. Just before he started to prison he 
repudiated his confession an’ said Big Bill 
an’ Three-Finger Jack were not with him. 
That left us without evidence, as the watch- 
man could not identify ’em ’cause they wore 
masks. We tried hard to prove their owner- 
ship of the kit of burglar tools left behind, but 
couldn’t do it. So the thing blowed over and 
Big Bill come back to town.” 

Biff drew a long breath at this unexpected 
turn of events. “What is he doing now?” he 
continued. 

“Drinkin’,” replied the officer, “whenever 
he can raise the price.” 

“Do you think you could find him to- 
night?” questioned the boy. 

“Come on,” said Hagerty. “We’ll try.” 

Together they searched the saloons of the 
neighborhood and learned that he had left 


244 BIFF McCARTY 

one of them half an hour before, headed 
down an alley. They had not progressed far 
down the alley when they saw a figure sit- 
ting on the ground with his back leaning 
against a woodshed for support. Approach- 
ing it, they found Big Bill — dead drunk — 
with a half-filled flask at his side. 

The officer rang up the patrol wagon, 
loaded Bill into it, and started for the police 
station, with Biff riding on the step. As 
Bill was dragged in, the Captain gave him a 
glance of recognition and remarked, ‘'Big 
Bill — drunk again.’’ He was dumped into a 
chair where he reclined sprawlingly. 

The pockets of the prisoner were searched 
and less than five dollars in silver was found. 
Biff glanced at Bill’s shoes and, seized by a 
sudden inspiration, he picked up Bill’s feet 
and examined his shoes closely. Drawing 
an old envelope from his pocket, he placed it 
on the bottom of the left heel and hammered 
it with the handle of his knife. When he 
removed the paper he saw, clearly defined, 
the imprint of five nails in a row and a sixth 
a little to the right. As they were about to 
remove him to a cell Biff shook him roughly 


A MYSTERY IS SOLVED 245 

by the coat lapels, which caused him to 
straighten up in the chair in which he was 
sitting. 

'‘Wake up, Bill. If s Biflf,’’ shouted the boy 
in his ear. 

The man opened his bleary eyes for an 
instant, and pushing Biff’s hands away from 
his coat, muttered, "Leave my money alone.” 
Biff ran his hands up and down his coat until 
he felt something bulging. "Mr. Hagerty,” 
he called, "rip the lining of his coat.” 

The officer, quick to obey, ripped open the 
lining with his knife and drew out a pack- 
age of twenty-four crisp bills — each of 
twenty-dollar denomination. 

"This money was stolen from Mr. Hud- 
son’s office,” fairly shouted the boy in his 
excitement. Big Bill’s head hung limply to 
one side, as he snored on. "This is only half 
of it,” Biff went on. "He must have had a 
partner who has the rest of the money,” as 
he thought of the short man mentioned by 
the janitress. 

Again Biff seized Big Bill, shook him vio- 
lently, and roared in his ear, "Somebody’s 
got your money. Bill.” The man half opened 


246 BIFF McCARTY 

his eyes, ran his hand unsteadily inside his 
coat until it slipped into the hole cut in the 
lining, and then muttered thickly, ‘‘Shorty 
Fox has robbed me,’’ after which his head 
gradually sank on his shoulder, as he re- 
lapsed into his drunken slumber. 

“Shorty Fox is his pal’s name,” exclaimed 
Biff in a tone of triumph. “Do you know 
him ?” 

“No,” replied the Captain. “He is a new 
one on me.” 

“Let’s go to the Bertillon bureau,” sug- 
gested Biff. 

Officer Hagerty was directed to accom- 
pany the boy, and together they left the sta- 
tion. When they reached police head- 
quarters Biff inquired of the superintendent 
of the bureau, “Do you know a thief named 
Shorty Fox?” 

The official went to a card index and 
brought forth a card containing this mem- 
orandum: “Charles alias ‘Shorty’ Fox, age 
30; height 5 ft. 4 in.; weight 120 lbs., dark 
hair and eyes; Scars — 2-inch cut on upper 
left lip; formerly expert for Ajax Safe Co. 
Now thief and safe robber — works combi- 


A MYSTERY IS SOLVED 247 

nations — does not use explosives. Rogues’ 
gallery number 6873.” 

He went to the gallery and returned with 
a photograph bearing the number 6873. 

^'Here’s his picture,” remarked the super- 
intendent. 

The Chief of Detectives entered the room 
and heard their story. 

'T have two men who know Shorty by 
sight, ril send them out to bring him in,” 
he announced. 

After they had departed on their mission. 
Biff suggested to Officer Hagerty, ''Suppose 
we take Shorty’s photograph to the janitress 
to see if she recognizes it.” 

"A good idea,” was the answer. 

The officer and the boy were soon on their 
way to the tenement in which the woman 
lived. Arriving at her door, they hammered 
until they awakened her from a sound sleep. 
After some minutes of delay for dressing, 
she opened a crack of the door with trem- 
bling hands. The sight of Biff’s face reas- 
sured her and she invited them in. 

Biff handed her the photograph as he 
asked, "Did you ever see that man before?’’ 


248 BIFF McCARTY 

^‘Why, yes/’ replied the woman. ‘'He is 
the short man who called at your office Satur- 
day afternoon. I would know him any- 
where.” 

They thanked her warmly and returned to 
police headquarters. As they entered the 
door they saw a short man, with a scar over 
his left lip, dark hair and eyes, and wearing 
a brown suit, seated in a chair. A pair of 
handcuffs shackled his wrists. On either 
side a detective stood guard. 

“Here is Shorty Fox,” said the Chief to 
Biff as the latter entered the room. 

The boy stepped close to the prisoner and 
surveyed his coat. The top button was miss- 
ing! Biff reached for his purse and pro- 
duced a button which matched the remaining 
saucer-shaped, brown-and-green buttons on 
the prisoner’s coat. 

“I found this button on the floor near Mr. 
Hudson’s safe,” said Biff, addressing the 
prisoner, “and the janitress has identified 
this photograph,” holding it up to Shorty’s 
view. “And Big Bill mentioned your name 
while drunk.” 

The man quailed as the web of guilt was 


A MYSTERY IS SOLVED 249 

weaved about him. He dropped his head 
and whispered, '"If s all up with me.^’ 

''What did you do with your half of the 
money?’’ asked Biff. 

"I’ve got it planted,” hesitatingly admitted 
the prisoner. 

"Where?” asked Biff, continuing the ex- 
amination with the skill of a lawyer. 

"Will you be easy on me, if I tell you?” 
pleaded the man eagerly. 

"Yes,” replied Biff. "I’ll tell the judge you 
gave back the money, and ask him to show 
you mercy.” 

The officers crowded close to catch his 
answer. He hesitated. His lips worked 
convulsively. Then he managed to stammer, 
"Under the railroad bridge — near Water 
Street — tin can.” 

In twenty minutes two officers returned 
with the can. The Chief of Police opened 
it and counted out five hundred dollars in 
currency — twenty-five twenty-dollar bills. 

A full confession was made by Shorty, 
written down, and then signed by him. It 
cleared up a number of points not yet ex- 
plained. 


250 BIFF McCARTY 

‘'Big Bill came to me/' ran Shorty's con- 
fession, “and asked me to crack Mr. Hud- 
son's safe. He knew I was an expert in 
opening a safe by working its combination. 
I went to the office and talked with the jani- 
tress to get the lay of the land. While stand- 
ing inside the door, holding it open with 
my hand, I ‘threw the catch' so that it would 
open from the outside without a key after 
being closed. I left the office and returned 
in an hour with Big Bill, who stood watch 
inside the door, while I worked the combina- 
tion. In an hour I found it and the safe door 
swung open. We found the envelope and 
divided the coin — half and half — right there. 
Bill walked over to the closet and looking in, 
remarked, ‘This must be Biff's coat.' He 
stuck the empty envelope into the coat pocket 
and said, ‘This will fix the little rat.' I left 
the building by the elevator, while he went 
down the stairs." 

The Chief remarked, “This is enough to 
give both of them long terms in date's 
prison." 

Biff then left headquarters. The first 
rosy streaks of dawn were painting the 


A MYSTERY IS SOLVED 251 

eastern sky as he approached his home. He 
let himself in with his key and went directly 
to Mrs. Berger’s room. He awakened her 
softly with a kiss, as he whispered, “It’s all 
right, mother. My troubles are over,” then 
he entered his own room and, without un- 
dressing, threw himself full length on the 
bed where, in another moment, he was deep 
in the sleep produced by an exhausted brain 
and body. 


CHAPTER XIX 

An Honor Badge Is Won and Lost 

Biff won his honors as a first-class scout 
with a celerity which commanded the ad- 
miration of every member of the troop. He 
now began to prepare himself for examina- 
tions on the five subjects which would entitle 
him to the Life Scout badge — life-saving, 
first-aid, public health, personal health, and 
athletics — and in a few weeks these subjects 
were passed before the examining board. 

At the next meeting the Scout Master an- 
nounced, "T am proud to tell you that Scout 
Biff McCarty has successfully passed the 
exams, which make him a Life Scout, and I 
now take pleasure in presenting to him the 
Life Scout medal.^’ 

As Biff stepped forward Mr. Hudson 
pinned the badge on his breast, and the troop 
broke into prolonged cheering for their hero. 
Biff was a proud, happy boy as he took his 
seat and received the congratulations of his 
comrades, whose faces were wreathed in 

252 


AN HONOR BADGE 253 

smiles of approval. It was a happy occa- 
sion and everyone rejoiced in his good 
fortune. 

Suddenly Fuzzy Markham arose and said, 
in a cold, hard tone, ‘‘Biff McCarty is not 
entitled to that badge. He did not pass the 
life-saving exam. He cheated.’’ 

The shock which his words produced 
stunned every one present. There were 
gasps of surprise and murmurs of “O, no. 
Fuzzy.” Protests were heard from all parts 
of the room. 

Biff’s face was pale and drawn as he arose 
to make reply. “I did pass the life-saving 
test — ^before the swimming instructor at the 
pool. He certified it to the Scout Commis- 
sioner. He has it on file now. I’ll phone 
him and prove it to you.” 

Mr. Hudson interrupted. “Let me call 
him.” 

When the Scout Commissioner had been 
reached in his office he replied, “I have no 
certificate that Biff McCarty passed life- 
saving. I have one that he passed swim- 
ming — a much easier test.” 

When Mr. Hudson reported these words 


254 BIFF McCARTY 

to the troop, Biffs face fell with a look of 
dismay, while a gleam of triumph shone from 
Fuzzy’s eyes. 

told you so,” the latter exclaimed. 
went to the Commissioner’s office this after- 
noon, when I heard the badge was to be 
awarded, and checked up his exams. The 
Commissioner told me he had not passed life- 
saving. He tried to get his badge by cheat- 
ing.” 

^^Order!” shouted Mr. Hudson, hammer- 
ing on his desk. 

With flashing eyes. Biff replied, ‘^Scouts, 
I never cheated in my life. I did take the 
life-saving exam. I passed it. There is a 
mistake somewhere. I’ll surrender my badge 
till I prove it.” 

He walked to the desk and placed his Life 
Scout badge in Mr. Hudson’s hand with 
mingled feelings of shame and dismay. 
Fuzzy’s face bore a look of victory, and he 
smiled with satisfaction at the turn which 
events had taken. But he was alone in his 
triumph. Not a scout shared his feeling of 
exultation. 

The following morning Biff was waiting 


AN HONOR BADGE 255 

at the door of the Commissioner's office 
when that official arrived. 

As he entered, Biff asked, ^'Will you 
please look up my test on life-saving?" 

Together, the man and the boy went over 
the records, but found no report on the miss- 
ing examination. 

‘T’ll phone Mr. Fish, the swimming in- 
structor, who gave me the test," said Biff. 

Mr. Fish telephoned this answer: ‘T do 
not remember especially that you passed the 
test — so many scouts have passed swimming 
and life-saving. If you did pass life-saving, 
your certificate will be on file in the Com- 
missioner's office." 

Biff hung up the receiver with a gesture 
of despair. He sat silent, with eyes fixed 
on the floor. His spirit was broken. He 
was dishonored! He had been proven a 
cheat ! A hot flush of shame swept over his 
face. He gulped back a sob, then took his 
hat and slowly moved toward the door. He 
turned the knob. The telephone bell rang — 
the Commissioner was answering it. In a 
moment he exclaimed, Biff, wait a mo- 
ment. Mr. Fish is saying that he has just 


256 BIFF McCARTY 

found your certificate for life-saving at the 
bottom of a pile of papers on his desk/’ 

''He has !” shouted the boy, rushing back 
into the office. 

"Yes,” replied the Commissioner. "He 
says he will mail it to-day.” 

"Tell him not to do it,” directed Bifif. "Fll 
go out there myself and get it,” and he 
rushed through the hall on his way to get the 
precious paper which would erase the stain 
on his honor. 

At the next meeting of the troop the Com- 
missioner was present in company with the 
examiner on life-saving. The latter arose 
and said: "I am here to-night to make an 
explanation and an apology. A month ago 
Biff McCarty passed a perfect examination 
in life-saving — making the highest grade of 
any scout I ever examined. I mislaid the cer- 
tificate, through my own carelessness, and I 
appear to-night to right a wrong which has 
been unwittingly done this boy.” 

Curly Coover and Bunny Brown simul- 
taneously jumped from their seats and 
grabbed Biff’s hands in viselike grips and 
wrung them till Biff squirmed. During this 


AN HONOR BADGE 257 

scene the Life Scout medal was restored to 
Biff, whereupon pandemonium broke loose 
in the troop. Scouts jumped to their feet, 
hats were flung to the ceiling, and the shouts 
and cheers which rolled up from every throat 
made the windows rattle. Never in the his- 
tory of the troop had there been such a scene 
of wild enthusiasm. 

During the excitement Fuzzy took his hat 
and quietly slipped out the door unnoticed. 


CHAPTER XX 
Biff Lands in a Cemetery 

The sun was sinking behind the western 
hills, as six scouts were finishing their dinner 
which they had cooked in the woods. Ad- 
jutant Parsons and Quartermaster Coover 
were washing their hands in a spring brook 
and telling Patrol Leaders McCarty, Brown, 
McGregor, and Markham, ‘'Hurry up, fel- 
lows ; it’s getting late,” as they observed the 
four leaders loitering over their evening 
meal. These six officers had been appointed 
a committee to select a site suitable for a per- 
manent camp to be used by the troop as occa- 
sion required. They had traveled far and 
wide on their tour of inspection and now 
found themselves miles from home. Dark- 
ness settled over the land as they began their 
hike homeward. They plodded down the 
road through the blackness of the night for 
an hour, every scout bantering and poking 
fun and jest at the other, with the sole excep- 
tion of Fuzzy Markham, whose fixed habit 
258 


LANDS IN A CEMETERY 259 

was to avoid conversation with Biff, al- 
though he was friendly with the others. 

Soon Bunny Brown, who was walking by 
Biff’s side, requested, ‘'Let me have your ax. 
Biff ; the heel of my shoe is coming loose.” 

“I forgot to bring it,” was the reply, “but 
here’s my hunting knife. It will do just as 
well.” 

Bunny hammered the heel tap into place 
and unconsciously slipped the knife in his 
pocket. 

Presently Curly suggested, “Say, fellows, 
we can cut across the country here and strike 
the River road and save half a mile.” 

“All right. Lead us to it,” assented the 
others. 

They now turned to the left, over rough, 
broken country covered with timber. Biff 
stopped to replace a broken shoe lace. This 
finished, he hurried on, endeavoring to over- 
take his companions, now far in the lead. As 
he emerged from the woods, he entered an 
old cemetery which had been abandoned for 
more than half a century. The fence for- 
merly surrounding it had long since disap- 
peared. Tombstones and monuments 


26 o BIFF McCARTY 

erected in memory of the dead had fallen into 
decay — cracked, weather-beaten, broken. 
Weeds and grass growing rank and tall gave 
the cemetery a wild, desolate appearance. 
Ruin and decay were everywhere about him. 
Biff hurried on through the gloom of the 
starless night in his endeavor to overtake his 
companions. The ghostly forms of leaning 
monuments seemed to be approaching him. 
A cold chill crept up his spine. He pressed 
forward with increasing speed. Through 
the darkness he could faintly distinguish the 
outline of Fuzzy Markham. The others 
were far ahead, swallowed up by the inky 
black of the night. 

Still hurrying forward, his foot broke 
through a crust of earth and he fell full 
length on a mound, which crumbled and 
gave way beneath him. With a wild cry of 
terror, he threw out his arms in a vain effort 
to save himself and plunged downward into 
an unknown abyss. 

Fuzzy Markham’s attention was arrested 
by the cry. He stopped. In another second 
he heard the thud of a falling body. He re- 
traced his steps, flashing his lamp, until he 


LANDS IN A CEMETERY 261 

came to a jagged hole freshly broken through 
the top of a tomb arched over with brick, the 
mortar of which had slowly disintegrated 
during the century since it was built. He 
cautiously approached the opening and 
peered in. Other bricks at his feet began to 
fall. He flashed his light downward and the 
sight which met his gaze froze the blood in 
his veins. 

Far down in the tomb he saw Bitf lying 
motionless, surrounded by coffins long since 
decayed to dust, with the whitened bones of 
their dead inmates lying about in ghastly 
profusion. Hideous, grinning skulls stared 
at him as the light was reflected upward 
from their eyeless sockets. He shivered 
with dread. With an inarticulate gasp of 
terror he turned and fled. 

On he ran with stumbling feet until he had 
left the cemetery far behind. The awful 
sight he had witnessed gave wings to his 
leaden feet. The terror of the scene robbed 
him of every faculty, except the mad one of 
flight. He called to his companions; but 
they had gone far ahead, beyond ear shot. 
His lamp, lighting the way, cast fearsome 


262 BIFF McCARTY 

shadows which danced like ghostly figures 
from out the surrounding darkness. Still 
stricken with the panic of fear, he stumbled 
forward until finally he came out upon a road 
which he followed until he saw the lights of 
the city far ahead. Exhausted by running 
and fright, he continued his journey at a 
walk and finally the welcome sight of a street 
car, waiting at its terminus, greeted his eyes. 
He boarded the car which presently landed 
him at his home, where he went immediately 
to his room. Still shaking with the terror of 
his experience, he removed his clothing, 
turned out the light, and tumbled into bed. 

When Biff, momentarily stunned by his 
fall, had recovered his senses, he heard 
Fuzzy’s footsteps retreating rapidly in the 
distance. He called for help. The only an- 
swer was the echo of his own voice from 
the grave. Again he raised his voice in 
a mighty shout, ‘'Help! Help!” but there 
was no reply. He reached for his electric 
lamp and attempted to light it, but failed. 
Running his fingers over it, he discovered 
that the bulb had been broken by his fall. 


LANDS IN A CEMETERY 263 

He searched his pockets for matches and 
discovered just one. His heart bounded 
with joy. He struck it with trembling 
fingers and held it up. As the flickering 
rays lighted up the sepulcher he saw that 
he was standing on a crumbling skeleton. 
He sprang backward with a cry of horror 
only to hear the crunching of bones under 
his heel. Again he sought to find a foot- 
ing away from the ghostly remains. He 
saw a tattered piece of shroud clinging to a 
rib. A long arm with protruding finger 
bones seemed to be pointing threateningly 
toward him. White, hollow skulls stared at 
him with vacant eyes. Lipless mouths, with 
long yellow teeth, seemed to be asking why 
he had so rudely disturbed their rest. 

A cold, clammy sweat covered Biff’s brow. 
His knees trembled, and a chill ran through 
the marrow of his spine. His hair stood on 
end with the unspeakable horror of the scene. 
He glanced about and saw the brick walls of 
his prison extending ten feet above him. 
The last flickering ray of his match dis- 
closed the broken roof through which he had 
fallen. Then all was dark! The damp. 


264 BIFF McCARTY 

moldy odor of the grave assailed his nostrils. 
He dared not move for fear of hearing the 
crunching of bones beneath his feet. He 
feverishly searched every pocket for another 
match, but found none. Oh, for an ax to dig 
his way out! He had forgotten to bring it. 
‘'Til use my hunting knife,’’ he said aloud. 
Again bitter disappointment overpowered 
him as he recalled Bunny’s failure to return 
it. He was trapped. No avenue of escape 
was open to him. He would die of hunger 
and thirst before he could be found. Over- 
come with despair and fear, he flung himself 
into a corner and buried his face in his 
hands. 

As Fuzzy lay in bed the terror of darkness 
seized him. He arose, switched on the light, 
and crawled back into bed again, where he 
lay trembling violently in every limb. An 
hour slowly passed — then another. His 
brain began to cool and his reason to return. 
His will reasserted itself. Then slowly his 
mind focused itself on one question, ‘‘What 
had become of Biff?” The ignominy of his 
disgraceful flight now swept over him, fol- 


LANDS IN A CEMETERY 265 


lowed by a flood of self-reproaches. He bit- 
terly assailed himself for his lack of courage 
and for his failure to rescue his companion 
— even though he hated him. 

With a bound, he leaped from his bed and 
dressed hurriedly. Taking a lantern and a 
rope, he stole softly out of the house and 
caught an owl car, on which he rode until it 
reached its terminus. He set off down the 
road, now walking, now running, eager to 
retrieve his act of cowardice. Several 
miles farther on, he found the path by which 
he had emerged from the cemetery and into 
it he plunged. It seemed an eternity before 
the clearing ahead told him he had reached 
the cemetery. It was midnight. Not even 
the gleam of a star relieved the blackness of 
the night. He started at every shadow danc- 
ing behind a tombstone, as his lantern swung 
by his side. But still he went forward, with 
trembling knees and chattering teeth. He 
examined every mound near his path to find 
the hole through which Biff had fallen. 

Turning to his right, he suddenly caught 
sight of the jagged opening in the top of the 
tomb. ''Biff ! O, Biff he shouted. 


266 BIFF McCARTY 

There was no reply. 

Again he raised his voice in louder tones, 
‘^Biff! O, Biffr 

The silence of the grave was his only 
answer. He crawled to the edge of the open- 
ing and flashed his light downward. The 
tomb was empty ! Visions of a supernatural 
disappearance flashed before him. Had the 
grave swallowed up its prisoner, or had he 
been spirited away by the powers of dark- 
ness? 


CHAPTER XXI 
An Effort Misunderstood 

Fuzzy did not awake the next morning 
until ten o’clock. It was near daybreak when 
he had retired. His sleep was disturbed by 
hideous dreams which recalled the events 
which had just happened. His first thought 
on arising was of Biff, for his conscience 
still pricked him for flight in the presence of 
danger. He wondered what had become of 
him ! It did not seem possible that he could 
escape from that deep tomb without assist- 
ance. He went to the telephone and called 
Mr. Hudson’s office. The stenographer an- 
swered his call by saying that Biff had not 
been at the office that morning and they were 
worried about his absence. He called up the 
Berger residence and made inquiry of 
'‘Mother” Berger, without disclosing his 
identity, for he wished to avoid embarrassing 
questions. 

Mrs. Berger answered that Biff had not 
reached home. ‘T sat up all night waiting 
267 


268 BIFF McCARTY 

for him. I km nearly distracted. Do you 
know where he is?’’ she inquired, eagerly. 

‘'No, I don’t know where he is,” answered 
Fuzzy. “Good-by,” and he hung up the re- 
ceiver. 

This unexpected turn of affairs again 
threw Fuzzy into a panic. What had become 
of him? A score of misgivings flashed 
through his mind. Perhaps Biff had been 
killed by his fall! Perhaps he had died of 
fright in his horrid surroundings ! Perhaps 
he had lain dead on the floor of the tomb, con- 
cealed by a shadow, at the very moment when 
Fuzzy had gone back to rescue him! His 
brain was a vortex of whirling emotions, but 
one predominated. He returned to his room, 
and taking the rope he had carried the pre- 
vious night he wound it around his waist, 
buttoned his coat over it, and left his home, 
headed for the cemetery. It was noon when 
he arrived. He went far into it, and turning 
to the right he found the underground vault 
with a hole in the top where the brick arch 
had caved in. He peered into the hole and 
searched the bottom, now lighted by the rays 
of the midday sun. 


EFFORT MISUNDERSTOOD 269 

Biff was not there ! 

He examined the edges of the opening and 
found them overgrown with grass. There 
was no sign of freshly broken sod ; the break 
was at least a year old. He arose and began 
to search the graveyard. Two hundred feet 
farther on he was astounded to see a hand 
protruding upward from a grave — it ap- 
peared to be the hand of a corpse seeking 
to escape its charnel house. The finger of 
death was pointing toward him, beckoning 
him to its silent habitat in the chamber of 
the dead. His old nervous terror over- 
whelmed him, his knees gave way, and he 
sank limply behind a tombstone, where he lay 
staring with fascinated eyes at the ghastly 
hand clutching wildly at the air. 

For hours Biff sat huddled in the corner 
of his prison sepulcher paralyzed with 
terror. At last, his fears began to subside, 
and, worn out in body and mind by his expe- 
rience, nature finally succumbed and he 
dropped into a sleep which was disturbed by 
visions of dancing skeletons clad in flowing 
shrouds. He heard the chattering of teeth 


270 BIFF McCARTY 

in grinning skulls as they hissed their anger 
at his intrusion. He felt the cold, clammy 
hand of a corpse pressed against his face, as 
he awoke with a start. He saw the sunlight 
filtering down through the hole in the roof. 
Again the ghastly cerements of death met 
his gaze in all their hideous reality. His 
overwrought nerves communicated their 
shudders to every limb. He summoned his 
will to give his nerves support, as he sur- 
veyed the silent chamber of death. The brick 
walls, ten feet high, were solid and firm. The 
vaulted brick roof showed an irregular hole 
in its center about two by four feet. He 
searched the floor littered with skeletons and 
decayed coffins. His eyes rested on a silver 
plate — protruding from the debris of a 
crumbling casket — now black with age, on 
which was engraved the name of the de- 
ceased. Seizing it eagerly, he formulated a 
plan of escape. He began to use the plate as 
a chisel to dig a brick from the wall near the 
corner. It was slow, painful work and he 
bound his hand in his handkerchief to pre- 
vent its laceration. He toiled on, hour after 
hour, removing bricks on alternate sides of 


EFFORT MISUNDERSTOOD 271 

the corner, to use the vacant spaces as steps 
to reach the roof. Finally the last brick was 
chiseled out and his head touched the arch- 
ing top, where, holding precariously to his 
insecure support with one hand, he tore at 
the bricks at the edge of the opening with 
the other. Some gave way easily, while 
others required all his strength to dislodge. 
Brick by brick he opened the hole toward 
the corner to which he clung, and simulta- 
neously he would thrust one hand upward 
and clutching the grass he would tear the sod 
loose and send it with a funereal thud to 
the bottom. It was midday when the hole 
was finally extended to his corner. Digging 
his toes into the hard-earned steps and 
clutching the weeds above his head with both 
hands, he slowly drew himself up and out of 
his prison and fell upon the ground ex- 
hausted. 

Fuzzy continued to gaze at the hand, pro- 
truding at intervals from the grave, with 
eyes wide with terror. His teeth were chat- 
tering in spite of every effort to master his 
dread. Presently two hands came up and 


272 BIFF McCARTY 

grasped the weeds, and in another moment he 
saw Biff emerge from the grave. 

Mingled emotions of joy at Biff’s safety 
and chagrin at his own helplessness swept 
over him. Still hiding, he watched Biff as 
he lay on the grass resting from his strenu- 
ous exertions. Presently he saw him pick 
himself up and start in the direction of the 
tombstone which was his hiding place. 
Fuzzy crawled rapidly to the opposite side to 
escape detection. Biff continued his course 
until he was now abreast of the monument, 
when he heard a rustle among the weeds. 
He stopped, stepped around the tombstone, 
and saw Fuzzy hiding on the ground. 

‘Tuzzy! You here! What are you 
doing?” 

Fuzzy arose to his feet, with a crimson 
mantle of shame sweeping his face. 

— I — I — just — came out here — ” stam- 
mered the boy. 

‘Wes,” accused Biff, “you came out here to 
laugh at me. You never tried to help me.” 

“I — I — I — wanted to — help you,” he 
finally stammered. 

“You lie,” exploded Biff. “I heard you 


EFFORT MISUNDERSTOOD 273 

running away last night. Why didn’t you 
send the fellows to help me?’’ 

‘T — I — I — tried to — they — didn’t hear. I 
was afraid,” explained Fuzzy. 

''You’re a coward and a liar,” Biff thun- 
dered into the boy’s face, and turning on his 
heel, started in the direction of the city. 

Fuzzy buried his face in his hands and 
collapsed on the ground, where he lay, sob- 
bing out his shame and mortification. The 
realization of his cowardice plunged him into 
a black gulf of despair from which he saw 
no way of escape. His heart was bursting 
with emotion, as he sobbed inarticulately, 
"I’m a coward ! I’m a coward !” 


CHAPTER XXII 
Fuzzy Is on Trial 

The troop assembled at their next meet- 
ing with every member present. Biff’s ter- 
rible experience had been the sole topic of 
conversation among the boys for days. Its 
recital sent chills of terror through them. 
In order to account for his disappearance, it 
was necessary for Biff to tell his story, but 
never once did Fuzzy Markham’s connection 
with the affair fall from his lips. For rea- 
sons of his own he kept Fuzzy’s participa- 
tion a profound secret. As soon as roll call 
was completed. Fuzzy arose from his seat, 
his face pale and tense, as he said : ‘T have a 
confession to make. I heard Biff fall into 
the tomb. I went back — looked in — and saw 
him lying on the bottom, stunned by his fall. 
I got frightened and ran away, leaving him 
to his fate. It was the act of a coward. I 
have disgraced my uniform. I am not 
worthy to wear it. I want the troop to put 
me on trial and punish me for cowardice.” 

274 


FUZZY IS ON TRIAL 275 

As he concluded his statement, surprise 
and consternation swept across every face. 
The startling self-accusation benumbed their 
senses. His words dazed the boys, whose in- 
articulate gasps of astonishment made dis- 
cussion impossible. The shock of the revela- 
tion had left them speechless. 

At last Curly Coover found his tongue 
and said, ‘T think we ought to hear the whole 
story, both Markham’s and McCarty’s, be- 
fore we take any action.” 

Without a pause. Fuzzy was again on his 
feet and began his story, while scouts leaned 
forward in their chairs, intent on catching 
every syllable. Biff sat erect, his lips com- 
pressed. Cold, hard lines seamed his face 
with an expression of contempt. He trans- 
fixed the speaker with a stony stare. 

‘'When I heard Biff fall,” began Fuzzy, 
‘T went back to help him. When I saw the 
ghastly skeletons and grinning skulls in the 
vault, I was stricken with fear — I am 
ashamed to own it — I ran away. I went 
home and got into bed. After a while I re- 
covered control of myself. I got a rope and 
lantern and returned to the graveyard. I 


276 BIFF McCARTY 

found what I believed to be the vault into 
which Biff had fallen. It was empty. I 
went home again. The next morning I 
phoned Mr. Hudson and Mrs. Berger, but 
they had not seen or heard of Biff. I again 
went to the cemetery with a rope and found 
that the vault which I had visited in the night 
had caved in years before. I searched for 
a vault whose top was freshly broken. I 
saw a hand come up out of a grave. I 
thought it was the hand of a dead man point- 
ing his finger at me. I became frightened. I 
could go no nearer — I tried hard — more 
than I can ever tell you. I am a coward. ’’ 

His voice broke with emotion and he cov- 
ered his face with his hands as the tears 
coursed down his cheeks. Every boy was 
deeply moved by the frank, manly confes- 
sion. 

As Fuzzy’s story progressed. Biff’s face 
was a study in conflicting emotions. When 
he learned, for the first time, that the boy 
had tried to help him, his face relaxed. He 
realized that Fuzzy had shown courage 
when he returned to the cemetery alone at 
midnight with the intention of rescuing 


FUZZY IS ON TRIAL 277 

him. That in itself was bravery. His stern, 
hard expression changed to one of pity. The 
consciousness that he had misjudged Fuzzy 
swept over him with mighty force. Instantly 
he was on his feet, saying, ‘T have a con- 
fession to make, also.’’ 

Curiosity succeeded astonishment on every 
face, as he continued: ‘T found Fuzzy in the 
cemetery behind a tombstone. I thought he 
had come to mock me. I didn’t know he had 
tried to help me. He did his best. I confess 
I did wrong. I now ask his pardon, and 
move that the charges be dropped.” 

This unexpected turn of events sent a 
thrill through the troop. The frank confes- 
sion and the magnanimous forgiveness both 
touched their hearts deeply. The motion was 
carried unanimously as Fuzzy rushed out of 
the club room to hide himself in the blackness 
of the night. 


CHAPTER XXIII 
Biff and Fuzzy Become Friends 

Six members of the Tiger Patrol, under 
the command of Biff, were out on a Saturday 
afternoon hike. They had spent their half 
holiday in the woods gathering and classify- 
ing the leaves and fruit of trees to complete 
the forestry collection which was kept in the 
club rooms of the troop. 

It was now late in the afternoon of a day 
mellowed by rays of the declining sun, which 
painted the landscape with a brush of gold. 
They were nearing the city on their home- 
ward trip, hiking along the highway, beauti- 
ful with great trees spreading their branches 
Over, the roadway in interlocking arches of 
emerald, through which dripped the liquid 
sunshine. On either side of the road were 
fences separating it from the adjoining farms 
and country residences. 

The soft air was fragrant with the odors 
of the country and supercharged with life- 
278 


BIFF AND FUZZY FRIENDS 279 

giving ozone which ruddied their cheeks and 
glinted their eyes. The birds voiced their 
joy of living with continuous song. The 
cattle in an adjoining field lazily munched 
their cuds as they lay at rest on the turf 
carpet. The drowsy breeze caressed the tree 
tops with gentle grace. Peace pervaded the 
scene like a benediction. 

Suddenly, from out the shadows, far 
ahead, they saw a horse attached to a light 
carriage tearing frantically toward them, 
with wild leaps. 

"'Look! fellows,’’ shouted Dutch Deich- 
mann, "here comes a runaway!” 

The frightened horse was plunging wildly, 
with the fallen reins slapping about his heels, 
adding still more to his terror. On he came, 
in a cloud of dust, thundering down the road 
in his mad flight. 

In the front of the carriage was a little girl 
of ten, holding desperately to her seat and 
shrilly screaming, "Whoa! Whoa!” The 
violent swaying of the carriage, as it 
careened from one side of the road to the 
other, made her situation extremely preca- 
rious and threatened every moment to over- 


28 o BIFF McCARTY 

turn the vehicle and dash her to the ground 
in the wreckage. 

The thunder of hoofs on the road grew 
louder and nearer, smiting their ears like 
the rattle of a Gatling gun. Biff took in the 
situation at a glance and commanded, 
"'Stretch across the road — quick — fellows — 
hold your staves like this,’’ indicating a hori- 
zontal position with his own staff. 

The boys instantly obeyed and formed a 
human barrier across the road. The horse 
was now almost upon them, but slackened his 
pace when he neared the obstruction, as if 
undecided where to break through the line 
barring his way. 

His hesitation was sufficient to allow Biff 
to jump alongside the animal and grasp the 
shaft with his left hand for support, and 
while running at full speed, he caught the 
rein of the terrified horse with his other 
hand and began pulling with all his strength. 
From the throat of every boy came a vigor- 
ous "Whoa!” in their efforts to quiet the 
frightened animal. 

The horse, feeling the controlling hand on 
the bit, began to swerve to the right and 


BIFF AND FUZZY FRIENDS 281 

gradually slackened his speed as he crossed 
the roadway diagonally, close to the adjoin- 
ing fence. With a mighty pull, Biff swung 
the animal crashing into the fence, tearing 
a hole in it with the fore wheel of the ve- 
hicle and bringing the horse to a sudden 
stop. 

Biff was caught with crushing force be- 
tween the shaft and the top stringer of the 
fence and held in this dangerous position like 
a tool in a vise, unable to move — or even 
speak. The pressure of the powerful horse 
was crushing his chest. He could not 
breathe. Black spots appeared before his 
eyes — ^his head began to swim and objects 
moved about him in circles. He attempted 
to call for help, but no sound would leave his 
lips. 

Like one in a dream, he faintly heard 
Dinky’s voice as he shouted ‘Whoa !” to the 
panting animal, which stood trembling in 
every limb with excitement. He dimly real- 
ized that Dinky and Dutch were grasping 
the bit and pulling the horse away from him. 
He felt the terrific pressure on his chest re- 
leased and he dropped to the ground in a 


282 BIFF McCARTY 

heap, as a wave of blackness rolled before 
his eyes, blotting out the scene. 

Swat Fogerty and Slats Kerrigan helped 
the little girl to alight — unhurt, but badly 
frightened. In excited gasps she said, ''My 
sister, Cora, jumped. I’m afraid she is hurt. 
Won’t you go back and get her?” 

"Yes, of course, we will.” 

"Where’s Biff?” inquired Swat. 

"Why, he’s fallen there,” exclaimed Dutch, 
pointing to the prostrate boy, whom he now 
noticed on the ground for the first time. 

"Pull the horse away, so he won’t step on 
him,” shouted Dinky, and suiting the action 
to the word, the horse was carefully moved 
over to the left, while Slats and Dutch pulled 
the unconscious Biff from his place of danger 
and laid him on the turf. 

A carriage cushion was obtained and 
placed under the boy’s head as a pillow, 
while Swat ran to the nearest house for 
water. 

Dinky led the trembling horse to a tree, 
and after tying him securely returned and 
fumbled through Biff’s pockets until he 
found the first-aid package. From it he took 


BIFF AND FUZZY FRIENDS 283 

a tiny vial of volatile ammonia, which he 
crushed between his fingers and held under 
the nose of the unconscious scout. 

The stimulant soon brought a flutter to 
the closed eyelids and presently his eyes 
opened and he inquired faintly, ‘Ts she all 
right, boys 

^‘Yes, she ain’t hurt,” came the answer. 
‘'How are you?” 

Swat now came running up with a dipper 
of water, from which Bifif drank, and his 
head and face were bathed with such pro- 
fusion by the excited boys that most of it 
went down his neck, soaking his shirt. 

“Are you badly hurt, Biff?” inquired 
Dinky. 

“No, I think not, but I’ve got a pain in 
my side here,” responded Biff, indicating 
the spot. 

Dinky pulled open his shirt and ran his 
hand over the injured place, which made 
the patient wince with pain. 

“We’ve got to get a doctor. Biff,” an- 
nounced Dinky. “We’ll take you home. 
Here, Swat, you and Dutch, help me lift him 
in the carriage.” 


284 BIFF McCARTY 

After he had been deposited, as tenderly 
as possible, in the rear seat, with Swat as 
his attendant, Dinky placed the little girl in 
the front seat with him. Taking up the reins, 
he drove the horse, now pacified, slowly 
down the road toward the city. The remain- 
ing Tigers followed on foot. 

‘'O, there’s Cora !” shouted the girl, point- 
ing down the road at a young woman ap- 
proaching them. 

As the carriage reached her, her first 
question was, ‘'Are you hurt, Mary?” 

“Not a bit,” answered her sister. “Are 
you ?” 

“No, I escaped — through a miracle,” an- 
swered the girl. “I jumped blindly, not 
knowing where I would alight. Fortunately, 
I landed in a soft spot — near the road. I 
have only a few bruises.” 

“These scouts stopped Jupiter, or I would 
have been killed,” announced Mary with a 
look of gratitude toward them. 

“I can never thank you enough, boys, for 
saving my sister’s life. I know she would 
have been killed but for your bravery. To 
what troop do you belong?” 


BIFF AND FUZZY FRIENDS 285 

''We’re the Tiger Patrol of Troop 20,” 
answered Dinky. 

"You are?” exclaimed the girl in surprise. 
"Why, my brother, Fuzzy, belongs to that 
troop.” 

"You are Miss Markham, then,” he said. 
"I’m Dinky.” 

"I thank you a thousand times. I am 
doubly proud that it was your troop which 
did such a brave deed,” returned Miss Mark- 
ham. 

Looking around, she caught sight of the 
scout on the rear seat supporting the head of 
a pale-faced boy on his shoulder. 

"Are you hurt?” she inquired in alarm, 
addressing Biff. 

"Not much,” he answered. "I’ll be all 
right in a few minutes” — but his drawn, 
white face showed the pain which he was 
reluctant to admit. 

The cavalcade continued their homeward 
journey and soon reached the Markham resi- 
dence, where the two girls alighted and asked 
that Biff be brought into their home. 

Biff demurred vigorously and insisted that 
he be taken to his own home. The pain in 


286 BIFF McCARTY 

his side was increasing. It surged through 
his frame with mighty throbs, which the 
jolting of the carriage had not lessened. A 
great spasm of pain suddenly shot through 
the boy and he showed symptoms of faint- 
ing. 

This turn of affairs for the worse 
prompted Dutch to say, ‘T think we’d better 
take him in here and let him rest, while we 
get Bones. He almost fainted again.” 

Dinky assumed command and announced : 
‘'You’re right, Dutch. We’ve got to get 
the doctor — ^mighty quick. Grab a hold, 
boys.” 

Four boys picked up the injured scout 
and carried him up stairs into the Markham 
residence, where he was put to bed under 
the supervision of Mrs. Markham. She tele- 
phoned the family physician nearby, who 
was quick to respond. 

After making an examination, he an- 
nounced to Mrs. Markham that there was a 
fracture of two ribs on the right side, which 
he encased in a plaster cast and prescribed 
perfect rest and quiet for the patient. 

When the five Tigers were informed that 


BIFF AND FUZZY FRIENDS 287 

Biff was resting easily, they departed silently 
and sorrowfully for their homes, with the 
statement that they would call on their leader 
the following day. 

At the evening meal Fuzzy was informed 
of the exciting events of the afternoon, in- 
cluding Biff’s heroism and the resulting acci- 
dent and that Biff then lay injured in his 
room upstairs. 

Jumping up from the table, he rushed up 
stairs, tiptoed into his bed room, and whis- 
pered, ‘'Are you awake. Biff?” 

“Yes,” came the faint answer. 

“I’m awful sorry you’re hurt, Biff.” 

“Thank you, it’s not much. I’ll be all 
right — in a day or two.” 

Sitting on the edge of the bed. Fuzzy took 
Biff’s hand in both of his and whispered: 
“I can never thank you enough for saving 
Mary’s life. Biff, I’ve been a fool and a cad 
toward you. Forgive me. I want to be your 
friend.” 

Tears welled up in his eyes and he swal- 
lowed hard at a lump in his throat as he 
squeezed Biff’s hand, unable to control his 
emotion or to speak further. He tried hard 


288 BIFF McCARTY 

to choke back the sobs which convulsed his 
body, but could not. 

''All right, Fuzzy. Forget it, just like I 
have,^' replied Biff, weakly, returning the 
pressure of Fuzzy’s hand. "I know you 
didn’t mean it. We are going to be friends.” 

"If you can ever forget all I have done to 
you,” replied Fuzzy, "I’ll prove my friend- 
ship.” 

"Yes, Fuzzy, I am sure we are good 
friends now.” 

The two boys remained silent a long time, 
with clasped hands as a token of a new 
friendship which should last throughout life. 

The arrival of the trained nurse was the 
signal for Fuzzy to leave his friend for the 
night. 

During the ensuing fortnight the boys had 
many opportunities to strengthen their re- 
gard for each other. Fuzzy was constant in 
his ministrations to his friend — cheering 
him with his presence, telling him the events 
of the day, and reading to him from his 
favorite books. 

In two weeks Biff had progressed so rap- 
idly that he was removed to his home at the 


BIFF AND FUZZY FRIENDS 289 

urgent request of Mrs. Berger, who declared 
that she would not permit “her boy^’ to re- 
main away one day longer than was neces- 
sary. 

The broken bones knitted rapidly and per- 
fectly and Biff quickly regained all his 
former strength and agility, and soon the 
runaway accident was only a memory — not 
of pain, or suffering, or even of heroism — 
but a memory of the birth of the friendship 
of Fuzzy and Biff, which grew in strength 
as the years rolled by. 


CHAPTER XXIV 
Biff Becomes An Eagle Scout 

McCarty was not the sort of boy to rest 
on the honors he had already won. He was 
a boy of action who believed in doing things 
— the bigger the better. His strong will 
held him to his determination to qualify as 
an Eagle Scout. He had already passed a 
number of these examinations with flying 
colors. He had, in addition, made steady 
progress in the law office during the past 
year. The increasing business of the office 
necessitated another clerk, and Biff was ad- 
vanced to this position, with a corresponding 
increase of salary. His promotion caused a 
vacancy in the position of office boy and, on 
Biff’s recommendation, Emil Deichmann — 
known as Dutch for short — was installed as 
office boy with Biff as his “boss” to instruct 
him in the duties of the position. 

A troop election for Adjutant was about 
to be held owing to the removal of Adjutant 
Deacon Parsons to another city. Deacon 
290 


BIFF AN EAGLE SCOUT 291 

was a popular boy who had attained the high- 
est noncommissioned office in the troop and 
Mr. Hudson expressed his regret at the 
necessity of accepting his resignation. When 
the troop convened, Mr. Hudson stated: 
^'We will now proceed to the election of an 
Adjutant. Nominations for that office are 
in order.^’ 

Fuzzy Markham arose and said: ‘^Mr. 
Scout Master, I want to place in nomination 
a boy who is better qualified for the job than 
any other boy in this troop. He^s a good 
scout, a fine fellow, and he deserves the 
honor. I nominate Biffi McCarty.’’ 

A great chorus of '‘Biff ! Biff ! Biff !” arose 
in a volume of sound from all parts of the 
room, until all semblance of order and 
decorum was lost. Mr. Hudson hammered 
vigorously with his gavel for order, and 
finally, when quiet had been restored, he an- 
nounced, "Biff McCarty has been nominated. 
Are there any other nominations?” 

Curly Coover and Skippy Connors arose 
and said simultaneously, "I second Biff’s 
nomination.” 

After waiting a moment to see if there 


BIFF McCARTY 


292 

were any other nominations, Mr. Hudson 
said, ''All who are in favor of electing Biff 
McCarty as Adjutant will say 'Aye.’ ” 

A great volume of "ayes” arose from 
every throat, thundered up to the rafters 
and reverberated down on their heads again, 
as their vocal approval of the boy who had 
made good. Then, shouts of "Speech, 
speech,” came from all the patrols. 

Biff stood up, blushing a red which was 
redder than his hair, and said: "Mr. Scout 
Master and Scouts, I ain’t much of a speech- 
maker, but I’ll tell you this secret — I wanted 
this job as much as I ever wanted anything 
in my life — even if I didn’t say so before — 
and I’m the proudest scout in the United 
States to-night ; and I thank you for electin’ 
me; and I’m going to make good; and I — 
that’s all,” and he took his seat amid the 
handclapping of his comrades, who rejoiced 
in the honors which he had fairly won. 

Biff had rapidly passed examinations cov- 
ering twenty-one subjects for merit badges 
— all that were required for the award of the 
highest honor badge — that of Eagle Scout. 
He added another for good measure. 


BIFF AN EAGLE SCOUT 293 

It was now a little more than a year since 
he had taken his first merit badge — and how 
quickly that year had passed! His life was 
so filled with activity that time rolled by un- 
noticed. 

The Scout authorities had planned a grand 
review of all the troops in the city, which 
was scheduled to be held in the City Park in 
two weeks. This was the big annual event in 
Scout circles and was largely attended. It 
seemed a long way off, and the days dragged 
wearily for the impatient boys, including 
Biff. 

At last the great day arrived — a warm 
Saturday afternoon in May, bright and clear 
enough to meet the requirements of the most 
exacting scout. 

Troop 20 left their club rooms at two 
o’clock, marching four abreast, with the 
American flag and the troop colors borne at 
the head of the column by the two color ser- 
geants. The troop presented a splendid ap- 
pearance in their natty uniforms and they 
marched with clocklike precision, every boy 
on his mettle, because parents and admiring 
friends would pass judgment on them. 


294 BIFF McCARTY 

Reaching the parade grounds in the park, 
the troop drew up — company front — in the 
place assigned them. Other troops rapidly 
wheeled into line and soon more than a thou- 
sand scouts were drawn up for inspection. 
The officer of the day passed the command 
to the Scout Masters and they swung their 
troops into marching column with the Boy 
Scout Band blaring forth martial music and 
headed toward the west side of the park 
where the reviewing stand was occupied 
by the Mayor, the President of the school 
board and the President of the local coun- 
cil of Scouts and other dignitaries of the 
city. 

As the color sergeants approached the 
stand they saluted by dipping their colors. 
The troops were then drawn up in a 
great hollow square, four deep, around the 
stand. 

Then followed the program of scout activ- 
ities, which was participated in by many of 
the troops — signaling, first-aid demonstra- 
tion, scaling walls, fire building, relay races, 
and building a signal tower. These were 
performed quickly and accurately, and 


BIFF AN EAGLE SCOUT 295 

evoked rounds of applause from the great 
concourse of people who had gathered to wit- 
ness the events. 

The last number on the program was the 
award of the Eagle Scout badge to Biff Mc- 
Carty. Troop 20 was drawn up directly in 
front of and facing the reviewing stand. 
The President of the local Scout organiza- 
tion, Judge Brooks, arose and said, ‘‘William 
McCarty of Troop 20, advance three paces.’’ 

When the boy hesitated. Happy Holmes 
gave him a nudge and whispered : “He means 
you. Biff. Don’t you recognize your own 
name ?” 

Biff advanced and stood at “attention.” 
Judge Brooks said: “The most pleasant 
feature on the program has been reserved 
for the last. It is the award of the silver 
eagle typifying the all-round perfect scout, 
to William McCarty of Troop 20, who has 
earned it by qualifying for twenty-two merit 
badges, proving that he is prepared for life 
in a way seldom equaled by boys of his age. 
I am proud of him. I am proud of the or- 
ganization which produced such a well- 
trained boy. It is fitting that our chief ex- 


296 BIFF McCARTY 

ecutive say a word on this occasion and I will 
therefore introduce to you His Honor, 
Mayor Clark/’ 

When the cheering had subsided the 
Mayor said in part: ‘This city takes great 
pride in this magnificent body of scouts who 
are being trained to become good citizens. 
One of your number has been conspicuous 
by his proficiency in scoutcraft, and to me 
has been accorded the honor of presenting 
this Eagle Scout badge to William McCarty 
— ^better known as Biff — in recognition of 
the fact that he is the perfectly trained scout. 
This is the first badge of its kind awarded in 
this State. I am glad that our city can claim 
this distinction. I congratulate you, Biff, on 
your great honors, fairly won.” 

As he descended from the stand and 
pinned the coveted badge on Biff’s breast a 
mighty cheer arose from a thousand scouts, 
augmented by the spectators massed around 
them. Cheer followed cheer for the boy 
scout hero. The band played its liveliest air 
while the Tigers picked up Biff in their arms, 
protesting strenuously, and placed him on 
the reviewing stand, in response to the de- 


BIFF AN EAGLE SCOUT 297 

mand of scores of scouts that he get up where 
they could see him. 

Biff blushingly mumbled his thanks to the 
officials, when suddenly the shrill, clear voice 
of Happy Holmes was heard shouting, 
“BifFs the guy who put the seed in succeed. 
iThree cheers for Biff.^’ 

They were given with renewed vigor and 
hen the troops began to move homeward. 

He was a happy Eagle Scout who took 
command of Troop 20 and proudly marched 
at their head, as they swung down the road 
in the direction of their clubroom, with flags 
flying and drums rolling out their praise for 
the boy who had made good. 





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